


Unconscious Design

by arnediadglanduath



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: A little angst, Anakin is the one expecting, CarrierVerse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Inspiredfic, M/M, Mpreg, Obi-Wan is typically adorable, Padme is a good friend, Slash, Yea we'll get to the sex, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8081443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnediadglanduath/pseuds/arnediadglanduath
Summary: Anakin and Obi-Wan have been in a relationship for several years, but the Force has a surprise in store for them. Can our two heroes brave the unknowns of expectant fatherhood and come out with their sanity intact?Set in the Clone Wars, Pre ROTS post AOTC. Some canon divergence (obviously.)





	1. A Mysterious Ailment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Qinderella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qinderella/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Stale By Noon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6922558) by [Qinderella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qinderella/pseuds/Qinderella). 



> Before we begin: This is a Flipfic inspired by Stale By Noon by Qinderella. In this version, Anakin is the one who is the Carrier. Some changes; Carriers are not allowed to be Jedi; those who are Force-Sensitive are transferred to become healers, join Agricorps or pursue their own destinies. This is due to their volatile emotions and inability to conform to Jedi customs...mostly born out of the instinctual urge to seek out a partner. Anakin has flown under the radar as a Carrier because he joined the Order well past the age when initiates are examined for traits. I, in no way, claim to have created this concept; I have simply tweaked it to fit this plot and storyline; which you will find differs considerably from Stale By Noon. This is not a mirror image of Qinderella's plot, but a concept remix. If you are looking for the same story told in reverse...that is not happening here...not to any extreme extent in any case. 
> 
> I am working on Under The Four Moons but I'm having some trouble with writer's block, as the chapter that is slowly formulating is extremely in-depth.

Anakin Skywalker was-at the moment-mildly furious.

He’d been a Jedi Knight for over a year-a _year_!-and the Council still refused to take anything he said seriously. It seemed like no matter what he did, and no matter how he presented his ideas or opinions, they still viewed him as a twelve year old with an attitude. Sometimes, he wanted to polish Mace Windu’s head ‘till he could see his reflection in it, make him look in the mirror, and recite the twenty one maxims…particularly that of integrity. _A Jedi lives as a Jedi at all times. Hypocrisy is their worst enemy._ Obi-Wan could crash a speeder into the side of a mountain and get a medal for it, but if _Anakin_ did it he got scolded for wasting precious Temple credits and acting recklessly in the face of danger. It didn’t matter that a kriffing droid had shot out the navigational control panels, making it virtually _impossible_ to fly what was already a total piece of bantha fodder. No, he was supposed to have miraculously landed the vessel without a single scratch, never mind a ripped tendon in his left arm and Obi-Wan vomiting in the passenger seat. Sure, yeah, Anakin was a damn good pilot, but he wasn’t a fucking magician. 

That wasn’t a good enough explanation for the Council, however. They pointed out he should have activated the emergency stabilizers and extended the gliders, processes that Anakin had insisted-through gritted teeth-took far longer than the twenty seconds it had taken him to lose navigational controls and perform a standard-safe crash landing. Then it was off on the usual spiel of how he couldn’t control his temper and that he shouldn’t be so frightened of everything. Anakin could remember being even remotely scared during the process, it wasn’t like _he_ was the one ralphing all over the windshield. Yoda was strangely silent while the rest of the Council drilled him, keeping his ancient and observant gaze on Anakin’s face. If anything, he hated that even more. It felt like the Council was either criticizing him or observing him, and he’d have a lot more faith in the Order if they would just let him get the job done without pointing out what all he’d done wrong along the way. It wasn’t like the mission hadn’t been a success. They’d captured the bounty hunter they’d come to apprehend and turned him over to the Senate, but evidently doing just that wasn’t up to par for the Council. 

“I can feel you brooding from over here” Obi-Wan said mildly. 

Anakin grimaced and swung his legs off his sleep couch so they could land on the floor. Ruffling his hair idly, he stood and made his way to the table where his former Master was sitting. The older man raised an eyebrow and shut off the datapadd he’d been perusing with a flick of his hand, settling back in his seat as Anakin took the chair across from him. Despite being Knighted and offered his own quarters, he preferred to stay with Obi-Wan. After so many years together, he’d just never found the motivation to move. Sure, he got yelled at if he left a sock on the floor for more than twenty minutes, but other than his own belongings he never had to worry about cleaning. Obi-Wan had a methodical breakdown of housekeeping, and the last time Anakin had tried to help he’d been sure the older man was going to have a heart attack. 

_‘The cloak rack doesn’t go there Anakin, and-oh my stars!-what are you cleaning the floors with?!’_

With the Clone Wars in full swing, accommodations were the least of their worries in any case. They were barely ever at the Temple, and if they were, it was usually for maybe a night or two of rest before shipping off to the next battle-destroyed planet. The Jedi were spread thin across the Galaxy, and everyone knew it was going to get worse before it got better. 

“I really had no choice but to crash-land” Anakin muttered, plucking at the sleeve to his tunic. 

“Oh, are you still on about that?” Obi-Wan sighed. When the younger man didn’t deign to reply, he leaned forward. “For what it’s worth, _I_ know you didn’t have a choice.” 

“So why don’t they believe me?” Anakin demanded. “Why don’t they believe you?”

“It’s not the Council’s job to commend you for the things you accomplish” was the sage reply. “They exist to point out what we could have done differently, angles we may or may not have seen that could work better.” 

“But it wouldn’t have worked better. We would’ve died.” 

“They weren’t there, they only know what we told them and what the mission logs report” Obi-Wan said gently, getting up and placing his padd in a niche on a shelf. Coming ‘round to Anakin’s side of the table he bent and kissed his cheek. “Oh, love” he sighed, when the younger man slouched away. “You must learn to let go of your anger.” 

And there it was. Love. That forbidden feeling that-at the very least-both Master and Padawan had failed utterly to ignore…what Jedi dogma _absolutely_ forbade, and that they continued to do on an everyday basis. Anakin didn’t really understand why it was such a bad thing, seriously. He’d been attracted to Obi-Wan since he was sixteen, and he hadn’t had eyes for anything but his Master for longer than that. He was strong, subtly funny, sympathetic, understanding and-though he vehemently denied it whenever it was brought up-absolutely adorable. He’d first tried to kiss Obi-Wan in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and gotten a frankly magnificent shiner for it. He’d born it like a trophy, to his Master’s utter chagrin, and kept on going like a _’rampaging bantha through a gathering of nerfherders’_ as the saying goes. 

The older man had borne his frankly pathetic attempts at flirtation for the better of four years ‘till he’d gotten tired of pretending to be the stoic picture of impervious Jedi-ness and bent him over a table on a particularly difficult mission in the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim; rutting them into the hard surface ’till they both came in a cacophony of ecstatic groans and muttered curses. After that, he’d danced around Anakin for a while, trying to pretend it hadn’t happened ‘till the younger man had gotten him thoroughly drunk and fucked him halfway to the next parsec.

The next morning was a flurry of _’for fuck’s sake, Anakin’_ and _’we can’t do this anymore‘_ and lots of cold compresses, but they eventually reached an understanding. Obi-Wan had a will about as malleable as durasteel, and it was a severe blow to his pride that some young, bratty-albeit extremely attractive-snot of a padawan had managed to blow his shields six ways to Sunday. Those weren’t his words, of course, but Anakin was pretty good at reading his Master at that point, so he filled in the blanks. They’d continued on to eliminate Count Dooku and dive headfirst into the Clone Wars while managing to act like lovesick teenagers behind closed doors. It wasn’t easy, but neither of them had really expected it. Anakin was possessive and angsty and Obi-Wan was often bewildered and somewhat grumpy but they made it work. To the public they were the Negotiator and the Hero With No Fear, striking fear in the hearts of the Separatists across the Galaxy. In private, they were lovers with expectations of each other that were perhaps occasionally too high; often balancing a fine line between temperance and utter destruction. 

The comm perched on the wall next to the door pinged, and Anakin watched with a certain depth of nonchalance as Obi-Wan scrambled to answer it. 

“Master Kenobi speaking.”

 ***"Ah, Obi-Wan””* came Mace Windu’s voice. *”Is Knight Skywalker around?”***

“Yes Master” the aforementioned man replied, standing and sweeping over to the comm unit. 

***"There you are. We've recently received a request for the Temple to oversee a cargo transfer on Naboo. The magistrate requested one guard, and since you're available for the moment we thought you wouldn't mind going. It's only for two weeks, and you’re familiar with the lay of the land.”***

“I’d be going solo?” Anakin queried. 

***“Unless you want to bring your padawan, but I'm afraid it won't be very exciting, and Ahsoka has studies to catch up on, from what I’ve heard.”***

“She’d be bored silly” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Stars know I know the risks of a bored padawan. Better for her to stay here and be ready for the next combat mission. Am I going anywhere?” he added curiously.

***“Master Yoda asked if you could take over teaching the younglings. He’ll be off-planet for the better part of a week.”***

“I’d be happy to.”

***"Alright. You’ll want to be off before noon tomorrow Skywalker. That will be all.”***

The comm beeped twice then went silent and Anakin sighed as Obi-Wan released the button and walked away to look out the window. Their quarters were simple; the walls a comfortable bridgewater tan and the carpet gingerbread-colored, short but soft. Their sleep couches were noir and spacious, though Anakin’s had gone unused for a long time as he preferred to sleep with Obi-Wan. They rested on either side of a large picture window that offered a magnificent view of the rest of the Temple and beyond that, Coruscant. Directly opposite it was the door to the suite, on the right side of which was a simple holoscreen and their humble set of chairs on either side of the table, all the same color as the sleeping couches. To the left was Obi-Wan’s faceframe cabinet with four cubicles; one of which held his precious holobooks and the others sported his few nicknacks, including the box that held his padawan braid, and a memorial plaque honoring Qui-Gon Jinn. There was his first training saber and a battered crocheted dewback about the length of Anakin’s arm that was a gift from his mother. Beside all of this, with a cubicle all of its own was a simple droid no more than three inches high. It was a silvery chrome with a green button in the middle that-when pressed-sang a Tatooinian folktune. This was a gift from Anakin, who had given it to Obi-Wan at the age of twelve. 

Beyond the cabinet was a simple wardrobe; again, black. The two of them shared the space for their supply of clothes and one or two odd blankets if they got cold. Anakin’s personal cabinet only had one cubby, which held his padawan braid and the stone Obi-Wan had given him for his padawan birthday ritual. There was also a small dried flower that Padme had given him when he’d accompanied her to Naboo. Though they didn’t see each other often they remained in correspondence and were fast friends. There was a meditation mat in front of the window, a small ‘fresher, and an electronic calendar on the wall next to the comm, but other than that the room would be considered sparse to most citizens. 

They brought their meals home from the cafeteria or-on the rare occasion-went out to eat at Dex’s. Most Masters had far more complex quarters, often equipped with a kitchen, but Obi-Wan insisted it was a headache and he hated to cook unless he was having a pot of tea. Anakin had been offered the chance of rooming with Ahsoka but both had been rather against the idea.  
She liked living with the other padawans and he was loathe to leave his former Master so it all worked out in the end. If they felt like a change of scenery they visited the room of a thousand fountains and played cards or sparred in the gym. 

Shrugging out of his robes, Anakin drifted over to the wardrobe - kicking off his boots in the process - and hung them up on their respective hook. His belt and obi took a bit longer but soon he was down to his tunic and he stretched idly before crossing the room to recline on Obi-Wan’s sleeping couch. He watched nonchalantly as the older man went about his usual nightly ritual of tidying up their quarters and pulling the blinds; finally echoing Anakin’s actions and crawling under the covers with a sigh of contentment. In unison, they rolled to face each other and Anakin lifted his organic hand to sift it through Obi-Wan’s beard, watching as the lips he knew so well tugged themselves into a fond smile. They kissed lazily, mouth against mouth, tongues tangling ‘till Anakin felt himself drifting into unconsciousness. Seeming to sense his exhaustion, Obi-Wan moved away and made a study of his face.

“It’s unusual for you to take a mission like this without complaining.”

The younger man blinked sleepily, taking a moment to process what had been said to him. 

“Didn't feel like arguing” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He let his fingers bunch idly in Obi-Wan’s tunic. “I’ll miss you.”

“It’s only two weeks, we’ve been apart longer than that” was the stoic response. He grumbled as lips brushed across his forehead. “But you know I’ll miss you too, dear one.”

The last coherent thing Anakin remembered before he descended into dreams was his former Master muttering _“lights.”_

________________________________________________________

The first thing Obi-Wan was aware of when he woke was that Anakin’s Force Signature was utterly chaotic. He hadn’t seen such uncoordinated veins of psyche in the other man since he was fourteen and going through puberty. Rising up on one elbow, the older man blinked furiously to get the sleep out of his eyes, glancing over to see that Anakin’s side of the couch was empty and realising he could hear him being sick in the ‘fresher. Obi-Wan frowned as his brain tried to come to terms with the fact that a Jedi - who were technically never supposed to fall ill-was suddenly throwing up in his quarters. Then, when the puzzle pieces finally fell into place, he practically flew off the couch to the door of the ‘fresher. His legs, which were evidently astonished that someone of his age could move so quickly after hours of remaining immobile, decided to malfunction and he ended up bouncing off the frame before reevaluating his position and correcting his terrible trajectory. By this time, Anakin had stopped throwing up and was leaning over the rim of the toilet looking pale and utterly miserable. Obi-Wan bent to open the cabinet under the sink and ruffled through it ‘till he came up with one of their spare towels, handing it over wordlessly before grabbing a glass and filling it with tap water. After a few moments, Anakin threw the towel in the hamper with an expression of disgust and took the water with a mumbled ‘thanks.’

“Want to talk about it?” the Jedi Master asked idly, leaning against the sink.

Standing, the younger man tossed back the glass and shook his head.

“M’fine.” 

“You didn’t look ‘fine.’”

“I just...had a nightmare.”

And that was that. There was a sinking feeling in Obi-Wan’s stomach that told him beyond a doubt that Anakin was lying, but he couldn’t find a reason to pursue the issue. They spent the morning chatting over a light breakfast of toast and tea, and by noon Anakin was getting ready to leave, any signs of that morning’s incident swept under his usual confident posture and forward-facing attitude. He left Obi-Wan with a kiss that had his lips tingling for hours, and by the time evening rolled around the Jedi Master was far too preoccupied to keep worrying. The younglings were energetic and eager to learn, something that always warmed his spirits, and he had a quiet-albeit slightly lonely-evening watching old holomovies and sorting through his extensive book collection. Word came from Anakin very late and they talked for a few minutes via datapadd before wishing each other a goodnight and promising to speak the next day. 

Time passed rather unchangeably for the better part of a week, and when Yoda returned from his off-planet mission he thanked Obi-Wan for taking the time to substitute in his stead. It wasn’t until seven days after Anakin’s departure that anything out of the ordinary happened; rather, Anakin returned seven days earlier than he was supposed to, and not out of his own choosing. Obi-Wan was sitting in on a Council meeting that was running far longer than it should have as far as he was concerned, when Mace Windu’s pocket communicator went off. He watched as the bald-headed man pulled it out of his robes and pressed a button, a frown furrowing his brow as he typed a hasty response. A few minutes later the door to the Council chambers hissed apart and Obi-Wan watched in surprise as Anakin stepped through looking somewhat sulky, accompanied by Master Fisto. A wave of muttering swept across the room in a semi-circle before Yoda raised his hand and silence fell.

“Young Skywalker” he commented. “Expecting you so soon, we were not. Allowed you to return early, the magistrate has?”

“The magistrate requests that a new Jedi be appointed to oversee the remainder of the cargo transfer” Fisto commented. “He has stated that he is...dissatisfied with Knight Skywalker’s services.”

“Surely his behavior hasn’t been that atrocious” Obi-Wan said incredulously. 

“It was brought to my attention that he’s...lost consciousness at least three times in the magistrate's presence.”

“You _fainted?!”_ Obi-Wan demanded, speaking directly to Anakin now. “Three times?!”

The younger man flushed.

“I...haven’t been sleeping well, Master” he replied. “I let myself become overtaxed, it won’t happen again.” 

“The war has been hard on us all” Mace Windu commented. “But we’ve put both you and Obi-Wan out on the front lines since this all started, perhaps both of you could use some time off.” 

“I’m fine!” Anakin snapped, then seemed to collect himself. “I’m sorry Masters, I shouldn’t have spoken in such a way. I assure you, I am in perfectly good health, I simply neglected myself for a few days.”

“And a few days to regain yourself you will take” Yoda said firmly. “Spend time with your padawan, you shall. Obi-Wan, tasked with making sure Young Skywalker remains in the Temple you are.” 

“I’ll do my best” Obi-Wan said dryly.

Anakin looked like he wanted to throw something, but he simply bowed and left the room, his cloak billowing behind him. It was a few hours later that Obi-Wan found himself able to politely excuse himself from the Council Meeting to go find him. When he did, he was surprised to find the young man out cold in their quarters, snoring softly. The Anakin _he_ knew would have already been on the other side of Coruscant racing a speeder against some ugly ruffians or drinking himself to ruins in a shady bar. Letting the automatic door to their room slide shut behind him, he took a moment to observe his lover’s sleeping face. It was obvious even from a distance of several feet that Anakin was unusually pale. He looked somewhat thinner than he had when Obi-Wan had last seen him, though the change wasn’t drastic, and only someone who knew him intimately would have noticed the change. He was obviously exhausted; his Force Signature practically nonexistent. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought that Anakin had simply collapsed and coincidentally been close to a sleeping couch. Sitting down next to him as quietly as possible, Obi-Wan reflected that perhaps Yoda and Mace Windu were right, maybe he _did_ need the time off. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Anakin was still very young, and that he’d only been a Jedi for a little over ten years. More than that, he walked around with the knowledge that people thought he was the ‘Chosen One’; Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine what kind of burden that put on someone. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off...something more than battle-weariness and the burden of responsibility. While he sat there contemplating, Anakin woke and pulled him down so he could rest his head on his chest, immediately falling back to sleep. And though Obi-Wan rose about an hour after that to eat some dinner, Anakin didn’t wake up until the following day.

______________________________________________________

Anakin was sick again the next morning.

Obi-Wan woke to the same sounds he’d heard on the day of the young man’s departure to Naboo. This time, they fought about it. Infuriatingly, his former padawan refused to see a healer. He insisted he was fine and Obi-Wan called him a ‘mindless idiot’; in turn, Anakin set the meditation mat on fire with the Force and told him to ‘go fuck himself’ before storming out of their quarters. After extinguishing the flames with a flick of his hand, he immediately found himself in need of meditation and spent the better part of the morning searching for answers within the Force. He was starting to feel like he was missing something painfully obvious, but the answer was evading him with a regularity that was infuriating. It wasn’t until a hysterical Ahsoka burst in to inform him that her Master had simply collapsed in the middle of a sparring session that he really began to panic. What if Anakin was really sick? What if it had something to do with his Tatooinian physiology and his high midichlorian count-something that wasn’t available in the archives or known to medical professionals? Anakin was no longer his padawan, he couldn’t authorize a medical examination for him without his consent, and so far the young man had vehemently refused any kind of treatment. As far as the Code was concerned, Anakin could faint and throw up ‘till he died and he’d be in perfect legal rights to do so. 

This went on for several days until Ahsoka finally lost her cool and informed Anakin that she would seek a new Master if he wasn’t willing to take care of himself. It happened while they were playing cards in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and Obi-Wan was there to witness all of it.

“I’m not sitting around and waiting for you to die, Master” she cried, standing up and throwing her hand to the ground. “If you won’t get help, I don’t want to see you ever again!”

Watching her storm out of the room, Obi-Wan wished he could say he was brave enough to do the same, but he wasn’t. He couldn't walk away from someone he had very nearly raised and then thoroughly fallen head over heels in love with. Anakin had always had his demons, and he had known it and dealt with them them as patiently and thoroughly as possible. He was impatient, sensitive, controlling, reckless, and self-destructive... all traits that the Code forbade, but Obi-Wan had stubbornly told himself that Anakin would pull through, that he wouldn’t fail. After all, Qui-Gon had had faith in him and who was he to question the will of his former Master? Anakin was staring off where Ahsoka had disappeared, a despairing expression on his face. After a moment, he turned and began to resolutely pack up the cards, his shoulders slumped. 

“Anakin...can we _please_ talk about this?” Obi-Wan said quietly.

Slipping the deck into a pocket of his cloak, the young man sighed and stood.

“Can we just...go back to our rooms?” he murmured. “I want to spend some time alone, with you.” 

As they made the trip back to the accommodation sector, he couldn’t decide if the fact that Anakin wanted to be alone with him was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, it could give him the opportunity to address what was worrying him at a greater depth. Lately, his former padawan had been leaving their quarters before he woke up in order to avoid his pestering. They’d not made love for nearly three weeks, and Anakin was more prone to be talkative and affectionate after he’d had an orgasm. Still, a part of him balked at breaching such a sensitive topic when it seemed like they were only starting to get comfortable around each other again.This was the first time the young man had initiated any kind of private activities between the two of them in several weeks. If he pressed too hard, he knew that Anakin would start throwing up shields and he had no idea how long it would be before he got past them again. 

It turned out that he needn’t have worried about pushing anything _romantically_ suggestive on Anakin. The minute they stepped into their room and the door hissed shut, the Jedi Knight turned and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, slanting his mouth across his in a chaste but obviously connotative kiss. He returned it gently; with acceptance and affection, lost as he always immediately was in the sensual musk of Anakin’s lips and tongue. When it came to the bedroom, neither of them were particularly dominant, though Anakin was far better at accommodating penetration than he was. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy it, quite the opposite in fact, but if they were pressed for time it was easier for the younger man to play the receiving role. He had a niggling suspicion that it had much to do with age, and his body’s willingness to contort into the various positions that submissive positions required but he tried not to think about it too much. On rare occasions, they switched roles during a single encounter, but he could count the times they had done so on one hand. Once one of them managed to slide into the other, it was usually impossible for either party to stop under the relentless onslaught of pleasure that battered their senses. 

A cold hand slipping beneath the folds of Obi-Wan’s tunic brought a gasp to his lips. His mind unconsciously acknowledged that it was Anakin’s organic hand, even as he nipped at a plush lower lip before opening his mouth to accept the invasion of a dextrous tongue. Anakin kept his mechno-hand sheathed in a leather glove that was a distinctive texture, particularly against flesh. Taking the initiative, Obi-Wan gently began to urge his fellow Jedi backwards across the room, and he watched aqueous eyes flicker as the backs of black-clad knees hit the edge of a sleeping couch. A soft chuckle filtered between their fused lips as Anakin lowered himself onto the soft surface, tugging Obi-Wan over him with a sultry smile. He let himself linger over the lithe musculature of the form below him before letting his cloak fall to the ground, kicking off his boots as he settled himself between Anakin’s legs. Twin _***thumps***_ at the edge of the bed indicated that his former padawan had done the same.

From there it came down to the process of fully undressing; hands gripping hips as clothed erections bumped together in a familiar but never dispassionate dance. Anakin’s hair and skin caught rays of sunlight - from fine, golden, and pale to the slightly damp and roseate color of arousal-utterly captivating. Obi-Wan ran his tongue over trembling slender fingers, deceptively thin but heavily calloused and marred with the occasional scar. Likewise, Anakin’s tongue traced his collarbone, sucking idly as his gloved hand made a study of his chest and sides, each textured pass of a leather palm sending shivers down his spine.

The younger man surprised him when Obi-Wan finally made his way to the juncture between his legs, groaning softly as he lapped idly at the side of his need. An athletic spine arched and fingers bunched in coverlets as he lifted his hips in a silent invitation to move lower. Anakin was vocal, far more vocal than Obi-Wan, but initiation was sometimes a bit of a power play. Submission didn't come easily to his former padawan, and it often took several minutes of wordless coaxing to get him to understand that receiving didn't make him less of a man. Now though, as his hands dipped underneath the smooth slope of his perineum, Obi-Wan could feel his eagerness to be had...a subtle heat underneath his fingertips.

It wasn’t until he reached Anakin’s entrance that he was drawn up short. A warm, apparently odorless, slightly heavy liquid surrounded the opening, which was swollen like he’d already been taken. Though Anakin could occasionally be a flirt, there wasn't a bone in his body that believed that he would have sought comfort in the arms of someone else, and Obi-Wan dismissed the idea immediately. Rubbing his fingers gently against the orifice, he swung his gaze upwards to gauge his partners reaction. Anakin’s eyes fluttered and his mouth fell open, a heady moan falling from his lips. Slightly more pressure at a faster pace and he was cumming, arching off the couch as seed covered his chest and more of - whatever it was - spilled out onto Obi-Wan’s fingers. Frowning, the Jedi Master lifted his hand to the light, where he could see that though thick, it was very obviously clear. Trying to think back, he racked his brains for when this could have happened before, but he either didn't remember or he had missed it. Vaguely, he was very aware of Anakin watching him, coming down from his post-orgasmic high.

“What...what is that?” was the quiet query.

And it was then-like the pieces of a painfully obvious puzzle falling into place-that Obi-Wan felt a shiver of disbelief roll down his spine. Surely _not._ Impossible. Drawing a deep breath and ignoring Anakin’s curious gaze, he rose and fetched a warm, damp washcloth from the ‘fresher, methodically wiping away the remnants of release from his fingers and Anakin’s stomach as he collected his thoughts. By the time he had thrown the cloth into the hamper and returned to the sleeping couch, his former padawan was looking practically frantic. Sitting down next to him Obi-Wan took his hand, stroking a finger idly over a gloved thumb before he gathered himself enough to speak.

“...What do you know about Carriers Anakin?”

The young man blinked and frowned. 

“...That they can have children?”

The Jedi Master nodded absentmindedly.

“And what do you think happens to the Force -Sensitive children identified as Carriers?”

“Master Yoda told me Carriers aren't allowed to be Jedi” was the curious reply.

“That is true. Carriers are emotionally volatile in ways others are not, they are instinctually nurturing and possessive, and fiercely protective...the Temple has tried to train Carriers, but their genetic makeup makes it impossible for them to conform. They either fall short or become far too powerful and fall to the Dark Side. Since children with a high midichlorian count are brought into the Temple very young, we can't always identify if they will be Carriers until they reach a certain age....normally six or seven.”

“So what happens to them?”

“Many of them become healers, we have several healers who are Carriers. Others join Agricorps or become counselors and Archive Masters. Still more choose to leave the Temple and seek their own destinies.” 

“Why are you telling me this?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, but eventually mustered up the courage to continue.

“Anakin...were you ever tested?”

The young man’s brow furrowed further. 

“My-” he stopped and coughed uncomfortably. “My mother took me to a doctor once a year..when we could afford it, even though I never got sick. I'm sure I was, it's probably in my medical records.”

“And the Temple Healers examined you when you got here?”

“Well, yeah. All kinds of stupid reflex tests and bloodwork. Midichlorian count and mental prowess...loads of it.”

Obi-Wan took a deep shuddering breath.

“An ultrasound Anakin, _did they do an ultrasound??”_

The young man grimaced.

“That's where they rub the petroleum all over your stomach and put like...a wide plastic lightsaber hilt against it and look at pictures, right?”

“It’s not petroleum...not exactly...but yes” Obi-Wan said, relaxing slightly.

“We had to watch a holo of that in one of the seminars, but they never did it to me.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Obi-Wan’s mind reeled. Standing and ignoring Anakin’s bewildered questioning, he crossed the room to the comm in four strides and punched in the connection to the Medbay.

***Healing Houses, Medical Droid 138eX009 speaking.***

“This is Obi-Wan Kenobi” he snapped. “I want a droid up here with a portable ultrasound.”

***...I'm sorry Master Kenobi, but our logs don't indicate that you’ve been away recently, and there are no reports of a traumatic internal injury filed-”***

“-I don't give a damn what the reports say, I want a droid up here stat with the equipment. I have the right to privacy and discretion, so if a word of this gets out to the Council I’ll make sure you're next in line for the scrap heap, do I make myself clear?”

***”...Understood, Master Kenobi. One of our staff will be with you shortly.”***

He didn't dare look over at Anakin as he released the comm. The amount of fury in the young man’s Force Signature was enough to keep his eyes trained on the floor. He thanked whatever stars were on his side that he at least hadn’t tried to get up and leave. A small part of him was indescribably thankful that his partner could tell when he was serious, and in this situation he was practically frantic. The medical droid took no more than five minutes to reach their rooms, striking the buzzer with a cool and professional air. It was now, more than any time previous that Obi-Wan was thankful that they were programmed to respect patient privacy. It took only a few minutes more to get a protesting but obviously exhausted and overwhelmed Anakin to lay back on the couch. He winced as the gel first made contact with his lower abdomen, but was blessedly silent.

Obi-Wan saw it before the droid did; a testimony to how hard he was looking. It was vaguely outlined and barely the size of kidney bean...but it was there. It felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of his lungs, and he found himself leaning against the wall for support. Even as Anakin looked at the screen in confusion, obviously not recognizing a thing, he grappled with the fact that he was going to be a father. 

“It seems your medical reports have neglected to mention that you are a Carrier” the droid commented pleasantly.

For a moment, it seemed as if the young man might panic, then he shrugged.

“Huh...well, it's a little late for the Council to do anything about it now. I'm already a Knight.”

“There's more that you should know about your condition” was the idle reply.

The ultrasound monitor beeped and the droid became somewhat distracted, fiddling with the controls while they waited for a response.

“What is it?!” Anakin demanded after a brief stretch of time.

When no answer was forthcoming, Obi-Wan took the situation into his own hands. His voice came out breathless - nearly unfamiliar - but he still got the message across…

“Anakin...you're pregnant.”


	2. Both of You

He left. 

Less than sixty seconds after Obi-Wan had informed him of the news, Anakin got up and left. He hadn’t shouted...though maybe he should have. His brain simply told him he needed to _‘get out, now.’_ Which is what left him strolling through the Senate Building with a blank look on his face. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but he couldn’t really bring himself to be concerned. His life as a Jedi was over, no matter what. A Jedi Master could call for a discreet ultrasound without the knowledge of the Council, but having a baby was quite another matter. He couldn’t get rid of it...abortions were very public, very documented procedures. It wouldn’t matter if he went to the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim to get it done, people knew his face, he was a decorated war general. Besides, even if he wasn’t exactly what one would consider ‘dad material’ he’d still been a Jedi since he was nine. Everything the Code had taught him went against the idea of taking life that could not defend itself. It wasn’t just murder, it was dishonor. His mother would never forgive him for killing her grandchild, and the idea of cutting a living soul out of his body made him physically sick. 

He bumped into a member of the Senate Guard, but ignored the irritated insults that followed him. At this point, he could probably mow down a magistrate and he wouldn’t give a damn. He’d not only just learned he was a Carrier, but that he was _pregnant._ Pretty much every problem in the whole kriffing galaxy could wait in line. Muttering a curse, Anakin took a left and began to climb a flight of stairs, eventually reaching a turbolift. So, what? Years of training...utterly worthless. Jedi who were caught in relationships were automatically expelled from the Order...with no questions asked. He had no clue what they would do to an undetected Carrier who had managed to pass the Trials, kill a Sith, and ascend to Knighthood. And throughout it all he’d continued to screw Jedi Master- _Council Member_ -Obi-Wan Kenobi and get knocked up with his kid. He’d go down as the most accomplished, fucked up former member of the Order in Jedi history. Thinking back, he tried to remember exact dates, but they’d done it in so many places so many times pinpointing the exact moment of conception was impossible. 

It wasn’t until he was directly outside the door that Anakin realized his feet had led him to Padme’s apartment. Staring at the intercom, he wondered if this was supposed to be ironic or humiliating. Yeah, he’d had a crush on her when he was a kid, but that had quickly waned as his fascination with his Master grew. Padme was smart, kind, beautiful and funny...but she wasn’t right, and they’d both known it. He’d flirted with her during their struggle with the Separatists on Naboo, but neither of them had been serious. Both of them had careers and very, very different interests. Anakin was a risk-taker, he liked danger and adventure and Padme’s dream was to cumulate a peaceful Republic that was free of conflict. 

***“Jedi Knight Skywalker, m’lady would like to know if you intend to stand there all day or if you’d like to come in.”***

Anakin jumped as Voerne’s voice filtered out of the intercom, the handmaiden’s stern tone a stark contrast to the medical droid’s emotionless vocal programming. Pressing the button he cleared his throat to reply.

“If she’s not busy. I don’t want to intrude.” 

There was a soft chime and the door swung open soundlessly, bringing Voerne into view. She bowed in greeting and he returned the gesture as he entered, unable to resist smiling just a little as Padme rose from the couch in the familiar sitting room to greet him. 

“I was beginning to wonder if there was trouble and you’d been sent to guard my quarters” she commented, coming forward to kiss his cheeks. Stepping back, she kept a hand on his shoulder, her gaze sweeping over him. Her friendly smile faltered as she took him in, but she kept up her cheerful tone. “It’s been a while Ani, how are you?”

“Things could be better” he muttered as she led him to a couch and motioned for him to sit down. “How are things in the Senate?”

“Messy, but that’s nothing new” Padme replied dryly, leaning forward to pour them tea. “I’ll be glad when this war is over and we can focus on rebuilding the Republic.”

“I heard that Ryloth’s been giving you trouble.”

“It’s not Ryloth” she sighed, reaching for the sugar. “It’s Orn Free Taa. He doesn’t speak for his people, he speaks for himself. The Twi’leks don’t like him anymore than we do...but he has a lot of money and he’s very powerful.” She took a sip. “People are afraid of him, and as long as he has that hold over others there’s not much we can do.”

“Like a blue Hutt.”

Padme laughed.

“Yes, very much like a blue Hutt.” She hesitated a moment, then put her cup down and turned to face him more fully. “I….I’ve met someone.” 

Anakin smiled.

“That’s great Padme, what’s he like?”

She blushed.

“Well...I’ve actually mentioned him to you before. Do you remember when we talked about that crush I had when I was twelve?”

He thought for a minute.

“...Palo, wasn’t it?” he said, and she nodded. “Cute...curly hair...you were both in the legislative program.”

“You _do_ remember!” she exclaimed, delighted. 

“How could I? I mean you just went on and _on_ for hours-”

He yelped as she smacked his arm lightly, her laughter belaying the firm gesture.

“-Enough! Yes, well, we met at a function-”

“-What _kind_ of function?”

“Oh-shh, Ani. Anyway, we really connected….we have so many interests in common and our schedules are pretty similar.”

“Sounds exciting” he said, dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. 

“There’s more” said, leaning in and lowering her voice. “We’re expecting!” 

Almost immediately, the conflicting feelings he’d been trying to suppress returned with a vengeance. Even as he forced a smile across his face and congratulated her, his stomach was doing acrobatics that he was sure should be illegal. Padme continued to tell him that Palo had courted her for several months before they decided to forgo decorum and elope about three months ago. Now, she was seven weeks along and dreadfully excited. The conversation then turned to politics and war affairs, and slowly, he began to relax again. It was easy to lure himself into a false sense of security when the conversation was solely business-focused. He could pretend that the morning’s events had never happened, at least for the moment, and even if avoidance wasn’t the most mature of endeavors, it was certainly the easiest. It wasn’t until several hours later that Obi-Wan-having evidently decided that Anakin had had enough time to himself-began to assault his pocketcomm. He ignored it for the first few rings, but when the calls continued unabated he pulled it out of his pocket and turned it off. Padme, who had been in the middle of a rant regarding the Separatist treatment of Outer Rim citizenry, looked surprised.

“Are you sure you want to do that? It sounded important.”

“It’s just Obi-Wan” he muttered. 

For a long while, Padme simply looked at him, and he was discomfited by the fact that she always seemed to be able to see straight through him.

“Anakin...what’s really going on? You haven’t come for a social call in months, and you’ve been….distant and distracted this whole time.”

He swallowed, knowing that this question was going to come eventually. He’d never been able to lie to Padme, and walking out without saying anything just seemed rude. She’d shared details of her private life with him countless times, and for him to not trust her confidence was probably the worst thing he could do for their friendship. 

“I...I’m…” he gestured helplessly. 

Padme raised an eyebrow.

“I speak six forms of sign language but that’s not one I recognize” she said dryly. 

He took a deep breath.

“I...just found out that I’m a Carrier” he mumbled. 

There was a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh...well...I can imagine it was a bit of a shock but it’s not that bad is it? It doesn’t change who you are.”

“Carriers aren’t allowed to be Jedi.”

“They can’t expel you _now_ though, can they? You’ve been through the training, you’re a Knight and a war hero-”

_“I’m pregnant!”_

The silence after his declaration was deafening. It took a lot to shock Padme, and Anakin gloomily reflected that if this was the craziest thing she’d ever heard he was fucking doomed when he told the Council. As the lack of conversation stretched on...he felt dangerously close to crying like a baby bantha who had been separated from its mother, which was just utterly pathetic. A gentle hand on his gloved mechno arm very nearly made him jump out of his skin. When he’d mustered up the courage to look at her, he very nearly bawled to see that Padme looked utterly sympathetic, her eyes gentle and understanding.

“Ani...it’s going to be okay.” 

“Is it?” he laughed brokenly. “I’m so utterly, literally screwed.”

Her eyes flickered to the communicator clenched in his fist.

“Obi-Wan knows” she murmured, then appeared to put two and two together. “Obi-Wan is the father?”

“It sure as hell isn’t anyone else” he replied, sliding his hand out from under hers and covering his face. “...There hasn’t been anyone else for years…”

Padme was silent for a moment, processing the information she had received. Then, abruptly, she yanked his communicator out of his grasp, stood-dodging his desperate grab to retrieve it-and turned it back on. Almost immediately it began to ring again, and she hastily answered it before Anakin could react. Holding it up to her ear, she began to speak.

“Yes, Obi-Wan? Yes, he’s here, you can come and pick him up-”

_“Padme-mpfff-!!!”_

He swore into the hand that was abruptly clapped over his mouth. 

“-No, no he’s alright. It’s no trouble, yes, it’s fine. Okay, see you in a bit. Bye.”

 _“I can’t believe you did that!”_ he fumed as she dropped the comm back into his lap and sat down.

“What? Told the father of your child where his obviously mentally distraught partner is?? Honestly Anakin, he sounded like he was practically frantic. How could you be so heartless?!”

“Don’t you get it?!” Anakin demanded. “If Obi-Wan acknowledges this child as his and brings it before the Council his life is over! He’s only ever wanted to be a Jedi and this will take it all away from him!”

“That’s his choice to make” Padme said firmly. “And don’t you _ever_ forget that it’s his child too! Don’t even think for a minute that he won’t love you. Obi-Wan isn’t like that, I know him.”

“Obi-Wan loves _me_ ” Anakin confirmed grudgingly. “But this-this-”

“-This _child_ , Anakin, you may as well say it!”

“Fine. _Fine._ This child is...it isn’t planned! It isn’t what either of us wanted!”

Padme scoffed.

“Oh, and you think Palo and I sat down and talked about having a baby? Anakin, I just got pregnant, just like you-apparently- _just got pregnant!_ There’s nothing you can do about it, unless you want to get rid of it.”

“I...I can’t do that” he said miserably. “It’s a part of me...part of Obi-Wan.”

“So there you have it” she said triumphantly. “You’re going to be a father, you can’t be a Jedi-not for much longer anyway-so deal with it. It’s not like you’re uneducated or unresourceful. There’s hundreds, if not thousands of people in this galaxy who would gladly house you and your child, myself included. You’re not going to be thrown out on the streets...you’re practically a genius with mechanics, there’s opportunities out there for you. Your child has two fathers who are the bravest, kindest, most heroic men I’ve ever met and if Obi-Wan suddenly bails you better bet I’ll be hopping the fastest ship out there to drag his sorry bearded behind right back where it came from. So don’t you _dare_ think you’re alone in this Anakin Skywalker.”

By the time she’d finished her tirade, Anakin was laughing, and she continued to look fiercely determined for a moment before grinning sheepishly. 

“You win” he snorted. “I can’t argue with you when you go into Senator Mode.” 

“Thank you” she said firmly.

There was an awkward silence during which both sipped their tea. 

“So...how do you handle it?” Anakin asked finally.

Padme laughed.

“What, being pregnant?”

“Yeah...I mean like the morning sickness and the dizziness.”

“How long have you had it?”

“Three...four weeks.”

“Oh, you poor thing” she simpered. “My doctor gave me some anti nausea pills the first week in. You need a prescription for them, so I'm not sure how you’ll get them.” She patted his arm. “I didn't have dizziness so I'm afraid I can't help you with that, though I imagine the pills would help with that too.”

“I feel like I'm always tired” he grumbled. 

“I get that too, but it should go away come the beginning of the second trimester.” Padme stood and disappeared into what Anakin knew was a small kitchenette, returning swiftly with a small, yellow box. “Here. It's ginger tea, it’ll help with your nausea at the very least.” 

“Won't you need it?” Anakin asked, palming the brightly-colored package. 

“Stars no” was the good-natured reply. “I have plenty, Palo went rather overboard when we first found out. I'm getting rather sick of it to be honest. I've always been fond of Karlini….ginger isn't really my thing.” She looked mischievously at him over her cup. “Though, it is evidently _your_ thing.”

“Obi-Wan isn’t bearded there you know” Anakin said mildly. 

Almost instantly, she leaned in closer with an eager look on her face.

“You know, I’d always thought he had the most perfectly shaped-” 

“-I think I’ll cut in before this becomes utterly mortifying” came familiar, accented voice from the doorway. 

“Obi-Wan” Padme said cheerfully, standing and going to greet him as if she and Anakin hadn’t been about to discuss the niceties of his anatomy. “It’s so good to see you.”

A short nod was his only reply as the Jedi Master strode past her to sink down on the couch next to Anakin, a serious expression on his face. 

“Anakin, please, come back to the Temple” he said quietly. “We need to talk.” 

The younger man hesitated for a moment, but eventually caved against the earnest expression on Obi-Wan’s face. 

“...Alright.” 

They stood in unison and began to make their way back to the door where Padme had remained, looking strangely cheerful. 

“I wish we could stay” the older man commented to her as the stepped out into the foyer. “But I’m afraid we have a pressing matter to attend to.”

“I understand” was the sly reply. “It was so nice of you to stop by Ani, let me know how everything goes. Don’t forget to drink that tea. Oh, and _congratulations._

With that, she shut the door.

Anakin waited patiently as Obi-Wan stared stupidly at the now inaccessible apartment. When his former Master turned to question him, he beat him to the punch.

“Yes, I told her. For the record, she told me she was pregnant first.” 

This time, he didn’t wait for him to put the pieces together, opting to make a leisurely path to the turbolift. By the time he was inside, Obi-Wan had caught up to him but was still looking utterly nonplussed. The ride to the bottom was silent, and as they stepped out onto the streets to hail an airtaxi, Anakin privately hoped it would remain that way ‘till they got to their quarters. He had a feeling he was probably going to break down at some point during the inevitable conversation to come, and he would rather do it somewhere private. Lunch had come and gone while he was at Padme’s and he had simply forgone breakfast since he’d started vomiting it up, as a result he was hungry and tired. Blessedly, Obi-Wan rather had a sense for when he was starving, and instead of going directly to their rooms they stopped by the cafeteria. They ordered a simple steamed chicken and vegetable takeaway with an unadorned side salad, ferrying it back to the accommodation sector in individual plastic bags. Once inside their shared quarters they set up the small dining table and ate in contemplative silence. Anakin let Obi-Wan fuss over him a bit, if only to mellow him out for the discussion ahead. When the older man offered to take his plate he let him and went about wiping down the table. Eventually, once everything had been cleaned and put away, they sat down on Obi-Wan’s sleeping couch. The man in question looked tired and anxious, though Anakin couldn’t sense any resentment or anger. It made him feel guilty for running off without a word, knowing that he had worried for him while he was away. 

“Before you say anything” Obi-Wan said quietly. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for this.” When Anakin opened his mouth to speak he shook his head. “I _know_ Anakin, I know you want to take the high road and let me live out my miserable life as a Jedi, but I don’t want that. I couldn’t possibly live here and be content knowing you were out there raising our child alone. I never knew my parents, I barely know my brothers and sisters. I don’t want to be that father that walks away before his child even remembers his face.”

Anakin grimaced and looked away.

“That’s...not…” he trailed off helplessly then plowed forward. “I...don’t know Obi-Wan” he muttered. “I mean- _me?!-_ a dad?? I can barely keep myself alive when we’re out in the field. How am I gonna keep a little kid safe?” He chuckled humorlessly. “My old man was a bunch of midichlorians who decided it would be great to knock my mom up with a kid with a Force Sensitivity higher than Master Yoda’s. Who in their goddamn right mind would make me a Dad?”

“The Force evidently thought you’d make a great father, you were born a Carrier” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Just because you didn’t know doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.” 

“Yeah...but...I’m...I’m- _kriffing hell_ -this is not how I planned out my future!!!”

“Tell me then” Obi-Wan said calmly, unruffled. “How did you envision your future?”

Anakin floundered for a moment. 

“I...I guess I always saw myself joining the Council...maybe killing the Sith we’ve been trying to find.” 

“...And then what?”

“I dunno” he muttered. “I guess I always wanted to grow really old with you. ‘Till I had to push you up and down the Temple steps with a hovercart while you shouted at the Younglings and waved your cane around.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Obi-Wan was trying to keep a straight face. Then he coughed several times unconvincingly and dissolved into a series of amused chuckles. 

“No more missions?” he asked curiously after he’d recovered himself.

Anakin grimaced.

“I always figured that by the time we win this war I’d be ready to retire.”

“Anakin, Jedi don’t retire.”

“Yeah, I know but I thought that if I killed two Siths in quick succession the Council might make an exception.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Well what’s your kriffing point because now you’re just pissing me off” Anakin snapped. 

Obi-Wan sighed.

“Maybe this war wasn’t ever meant for us, Anakin. We’ve been together so long...I’m surprised we haven’t been caught yet. Maybe this baby is our way out without having to be...humiliated or expelled.” 

“Or, maybe the Order shouldn’t be so stuffy” Anakin snapped, shifting uncomfortably .

“The Order has been around for longer than you or I” Obi-Wan replied sternly. “Longer than Master Yoda, even. Who are we to demand change when others before us have bowed before Jedi Standard?” He looked squarely at Anakin. “What makes us- _either_ of us-Chosen One or not-more deserving than the Jedi who have lived and died by the Code and who _will_ live and die by the Code without questioning it?” 

The younger man stammered for a second before flushing and looking away. 

“I know that Obi-Wan” he muttered. “I just...don’t want to force you into something because you feel like it’s the right thing to do. It’s...it’s hard to explain without feeling like I’m trying to manipulate you.”

“You want me to want you” was the calm response. “You want me to want the baby, to want a life with both of you. Not because I feel guilty but because I love you.”

“Yeah...that just about sums it up” was the weary response, accompanied with a flat chuckle. “Pretty pathetic I guess.” 

A warm hand gently slid over his organic palm, ghosting over fate lines before twining their fingers together. Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around Anakin’s neck and gently threaded his other hand through his hair, bringing his head down onto his shoulder before letting the arm slip down to the younger man’s waist. 

“I love you” he said quietly. “I've loved you for so long, I can't even remember life without you. I love being a Jedi, it's an honor and a privilege, but walking away from it in order to start a family doesn't feel like a loss...it feels like a gift. I've seen more in thirty-six years than most have seen in a lifetime...I've watched my friends die in the name of the Republic...my _Master_ died for the Republic. Most Jedi get to this point and resign themselves to a life of servitude, but I don’t have to. Who could ask for more?”

“This isn’t going to be pretty” Anakin mumbled. “I don’t even know what pregnancy for a male Carrier is supposed to be like.” 

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“Mostly like it would be for a female Carrier. You’ll have hormone fluctuations...it’s why you’re...wet during arousal, your body is adjusting to accommodate a child and eventually prepare for birth. It’s also why you avoided going to the medbay. Your body subconsciously acknowledged the risk it was to expose the fact you are a Carrier to the Jedi Council and attempted to deal with being pregnant on its own. The morning sickness will go away in a couple weeks and you’ll feel like eating again.”

The younger man groaned.

“Oh, great, so I’m gonna crave stupid shit and cry for no reason.”

“Probably” Obi-Wan said cheerfully. “Though I think the experience is different for each person, so we’ll just have to wait and see.” He absentmindedly worried his upper lip. “You’ll need supplements, especially now considering you can’t particularly keep things down well in the morning...it’s probably why you’ve been losing consciousness and sleeping later.” 

“I’m kinda just trying to deal with the fact that I’m carrying your kid” Anakin said wearily. “M’not trying to be rude, but the rest can wait until tomorrow as far as I care.”

“I understand” was the patient reply. “Do you want to wait to tell the Council?”

The younger man sighed and lifted his head off Obi-Wan’s shoulder, rotating his body so he could lay down on the couch. 

“Tomorrow” he grunted. “...Worry about it tomorrow.”

“Alright” Obi-Wan murmured. 

“...Love you.”

“And I you...both of you.”

_________________________________________________________________________________

The comm going off was what woke Obi-Wan the next morning. Its shrill reverb echoed across the room as he groaned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Beside him, Anakin was still snoring louder than a sleeping krayt dragon, his face buried in a pillow. Stumbling across the room-practically tripping over a cabinet in the process-the Jedi Master punched the receiver, trying desperately to wake up. It turned out to be Master Windu, yet again, wanting to know if he felt that Anakin was up to returning to missions. They’d been forced to pull their forces in several places and once again, the Jedi were struggling to keep up with the Separatists. Master Yoda was once again off-planet on some mysterious mission and they needed two Jedi to fly into Nal Hutta to investigate a large weapons-smuggling operation that catered to Grievous’ regime. The operation was supposedly run by a Hutt named Fimug Cebdiss; though his exact location and scope of power was unknown. They were primarily targeting a bounty hunter named Tyran Pierce, who did Fimug’s dirty work and dispatched of any potential ‘leaks’ in the covert system. He was their lead to the core of the issue, and hopefully to Grievous...but Windu cautioned that getting to him would be extremely dangerous.

***”Tyran is neither stupid nor reckless. He is patient, manipulative and cunning. If he were Force Sensitive I have no doubt he would be a Sith...thankfully he is not, but he has other mechanisms at his disposal.”***

Obi-Wan hesitated, glancing back to the sleeping couch where Anakin was still snoozing away. It went against his better judgement...really...against _anything_ proprietary-centered, to allow someone who was pregnant to walk into a situation that could potentially become a deathtrap. He could quite easily volunteer to go alone, and he was fairly sure the Council trusted him enough to let him. It would be as easy as grabbing a spare change of clothes, his lightsaber and cloak, and walking out the door whilst leaving a note. On the other hand, he was fairly sure that Anakin would skin him alive on his return. He didn’t know how long he would be gone, and he certainly didn’t like the idea of missing the development of his child. It was a selfish, very un-Jedi like thought, and he didn’t dwell on it too long. Mace Windu was still waiting on the other side of the comm, and Obi-Wan could imagine that he was starting to get very grumpy at his lack of response.

“Do you mind if I discuss this with Anakin and get back to you?” he finally replied. 

There was a pause, in which he supposed the older Master must have looked very surprised.

***”Of course. But...do you really think Knight Skywalker will refuse?”***

“No” Obi-Wan said carefully. “I need to assess his mental state and I’d rather do it through civilized conversation than screaming at him to slow down in my poor old speeder.”

There was a chuckle.

***”Very well. You know how to reach me once you’ve made your decision.”***

Obi-Wan let go of the comm and exhaled wearily, eventually turning so he could trudge back over to the bed. Looking down at his sleeping lover, he berated himself for not recognizing the symptoms earlier. Anakin was marginally thinner, but there was a flushed pallor to his face that gravidity had brought about despite his illness. His Force Signature was subtly primal and his scent slightly different. Nothing about it was negative; which-Obi-Wan speculated-was why he’d likely brushed his feelings of suspicion to the side. It was only when he’d noticed the abundance of slick that he’d even begun to put anything in order. His hormones were changing...he was changing and he’d sat back and acted like an idiot. They were going to have a child, and he didn’t think nine months was enough time to prepare. Frowning, Obi-Wan regretfully reflected that he hadn’t asked the medical droid how far Anakin was along. By the looks of the ultrasound, he supposed he could safely that they were about seven weeks in...but he didn’t have it down to an exact science by any means. Anakin’s body was lithe but muscular, and while he was fairly certain he would begin to show early, his physique would allow only for the most minimalist of changes. 

He tried not to dwell on the horror stories he’d heard of male Carriers having to abort early due to abnormal uterine placement or ruptured intestinal tracts. There was always more of a risk because of their physicality...genetics could only take things so far. Of course, this wasn’t taking into account that Anakin was basically half-midichlorian and half-human. He had no idea how that played into any of it. A rustle against the coverlets indicated that his subject of rumination was awake, and he smiled fondly as deep blue eyes opened hesitantly before slamming shut in the face of the bright morning light. A gloved mechno-hand pulled the older man down for a lazy kiss.

“I had th’strangest dream” was the muttered grumble. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, but before he could reply Anakin groaned and retched...throwing the covers off in a matter of seconds before running to the ‘fresher. He followed at a slightly more leisurely pace, less worried now that he knew the cause of his symptoms. Passing their little table, he spied the package of ginger tea the young man had brought home and veered off-course too fix a cup. By the time Anakin had emerged from the ‘fresher, he had a mug ready and waiting. “Guess it wasn't a dream” was the hoarse comment as he took a sip.

“Will you be alright?” Obi-Wan queried, hovering anxiously and feeling slightly useless.

Anakin rolled his eyes and walked away to hunt for his tunic. 

“M’fine” he said exasperatedly, setting his mug down and stretching out onto his couch. “Gimme a minute to wake up.” 

“Alright, but we’ve received the offer to participate in a mission” the older man replied, crossing over to pick up the blankets and pillows they’d used during the night. 

“An offer? Since when did the Council _offer_?! It’s ‘go here!’ or ‘don’t go there!’”

“I told Master Windu that I wanted to assess your mental state before I made a decision” Obi-Wan said dryly, idly fluffing a pillow. 

“Oh, you pulled the _’my partner is a crazy nut-job and I want to make sure he won’t go batshit before I embark on anything remotely dangerous with him’_ spiel.”

“I thought it might sound better than _‘I’m sorry Master Windu, please inform the Council I have impregnated my former padawan’_ ” was the sarcastic retort. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Nal Hutta, to apprehend a bounty hunter” Obi-Wan replied, coming to sit on the couch next to Anakin. “In all seriousness, do you want to do this? You know how messy these ‘search and retrieve’ missions can be.”

Blue eyes studied him with uncharacteristic graveness for a second before Anakin sighed. 

“What do you think?”

The Jedi Master laughed. 

“Oh, Anakin, don’t ask me that.” When the younger man continued to look stubborn, he sighed. “Obviously, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here and be safe until our child is born, but I also know it’s not a viable option.”

“The Council understands that a Jedi needs to take rest” Anakin acceded, bending down to pull his boots out from under the couch. “But I'd rather go out now than when I'm further along. ” 

“So we do back to back missions now and take leave later on” Obi-Wan murmured, catching on to his train of thought. 

“Exactly ” was the calm response. “I want to be as far away from here as possible when I go into labor.”

“Anakin, we can't keep this from the Council forever” he said exasperatedly.

“Well we can damn well try” was the irritated response. The younger man stood and made his way to the door of their quarters, pulling his cloak on and clipping his lightsaber to his belt. He hesitated at the entrance. “I've had the night to think” he said, and the stubborn set of his jaw indicated there was no point in arguing. “I'm not going to let you give up your dream because of...this. We’re going to come out of this Jedi, our _kid_ will be a Jedi. I don't care if I have to rewrite the entire system to do it.” He turned away. “Tell Mace we’ll take the mission. I'm going to let Ahsoka know we're leaving.”

And it was then, as he watched the door close behind him that Obi-Wan realized that this whole affair was going to be a lot harder than he'd thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Some of you may be raising an eyebrow at Padme being pregnant at the same time...but I thought it was a nice touch. She only briefly mentions Palo in the movies...but I read a lot of fics where she's kind of a loner, dedicated to her job but unattached. What with Obi-Wan and Anakin embroiled in their expectant romance, I thought it would be nice for Padme to have someone, and her mentioning of the crush she had when she was twelve was just a perfect opportunity. Anyway, my main vein of thought was that Anakin has someone who is going through the same process-who can relate-if not in regards to the Jedi, in regards to pregnancy. 
> 
> You'll notice that Anakin flip-flops between acceptance of expulsion and a determination to remain a Jedi. This is important. 
> 
> P.S. I'm pretty fairly sure that 'Palo' is the name?? But I am unsure. Any corrections would be appreciated.
> 
> P.P.S. Anakin's view on abortion does not in any way echo my views, and they should not be taken as such.


	3. Let Me Dream

Anakin hated Nal Hutta the minute he saw it.

They didn’t even have to touch down on the ugly, yellowish-green ruin of a planet for him to get shivers of revulsion up his spine. He’d spent nearly a decade on Tatooine under the tyranny of the Hutts. To visit a planet that had had its main species driven to near-extinction, its ecology utterly polluted because of the ugly slugs was sickening. Tatooine was harsh and dry, you couldn’t hurt it any more than it was already desolate....but Nal Hutta had once been a glorious planet of lush steamy jungles and verdant swamps known as Evocar. The Evocii, its original inhabitants, had all been enslaved or sent to Nar Shaddaa, a harsh and unforgiving moon. Now...the planet was a bubbling mess of humid swamp; toxic, desolate, and dying. The dwellings of the Hutts were all mounted far above the ruinous terrain; great, hulking conical structures stained rusty orange from the acidic rain that seemed to pour constantly. They reminded Anakin of suspended ant hives; writhing with the depraved and criminalistic...shadows of a darkness far beyond the reach of the Republic. Everything here that didn’t belong to the Hutts was patched together from scrap heaps and waste dumps...barely functional and ready to fall apart at a moment’s notice. The populace was poor...overrun by slave labor and oppressed by a species that knew only opulence...thinking of themselves as Gods. 

Their destination was Bilbousa, the Capital...but there was no way they could stay there. Instead, Master Yoda had provided them with the whereabouts of an elderly Evocii ambassador who lived nearly thirty miles to the South in the middle of a swamp. In days gone past...the Evocii had reached out to the Republic for aid, but the Senate had ruled in favor of the Hutts. Money was money, and Evocar had been given to them through legal financial means...no matter if it meant the destruction of a planet. Despite the fact that they had been refused, the Council had attempted to keep contact with the swiftly dying species...offering opportunities of escape and reform...but the Evocii wanted none of it, preferring to stay and die in the name of a home that they had sold for all that glitters. Nardus Hyuk was tall but frail...his skin shriveled and lightened due to centuries of inbreeding and seclusion. Still, his eyes were wise...if not weary, and he accepted their presence in his home readily. His dwelling consisted of a cluster of six domed huts fashioned out of dark brown mud that had been shaved smooth and dried under intense heat; like a clay pot in a kiln. The exteriors were covered in various marshy weeds, sticks, and brush in order to conceal their true purpose. Inside...the rooms were lit with recessed cove-fixture lights that ran on solar power...provided by camouflaged exterior ground units. The domes were connected by short tunnels comprised of the same clay-like material and included a large living area with what appeared to be an open-fire cooking pit, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a private room where Nardus spent a great amount of his time. 

The ‘bathrooms’-as it turned out-sported holes in the ground next to which was a basket containing a plethora of heavily scented herbs. Nardus explained that while he may have had electricity...he did not have a sewage system. Opposite the ‘toilet’ was an ovular wooden basin with a single tap through which cold water ran. A waterproof heating rod could be placed in the bath and left for thirty minutes or so...until the water was less ‘freezing balls’ and more ‘lukewarm.’ The towels were fluffy….Anakin tried to tell himself that every time he was forced to clean himself, which was a lot, thanks to Obi-Wan’s insistence that the environment was positively germ-ridden...every time he so much as stepped outside he was practically thrown into the tub upon his return. He knew better than to let more than a few words of resistence leave his mouth; his former Master was just itching for any excuse to send him back to Coruscant. This in of itself was proving to be especially challenging, as he was rather a professional at bitching about anything and everything...and Nal Hutta was just _begging_ to be groused about...but he bit his tongue. A lot.

Their sleeping quarters were fairly simple; with an exaggerated wooden sleigh-like bed covered in thick pelts that smelled faintly of fire smoke and a crude closet of similar design. A brightly-colored woven carpet adorned the floor...threadbare but warm. There were no seats in the common/kitchen area...it was instead decorated with large flat cushions of varying shapes and sizes, most of them surrounding the firepit. The food that Nardus ate was inedible to them, and Obi-Wan had packed enough rations to feed an army and a half, along with Anakin’s tea and some vitamins he had haggled for off a vendor in Coruscant. Having survived for months off the dense chewy foods in various states of desperation, neither of them had any complaint...though Anakin could tell that Obi-Wan was worried he wasn’t getting enough nutrients. He was slowly gaining the weight back he had lost from his weeks of throwing up, but it was a slow process. Ahsoka had wanted to come with them, but after some discussion, it was agreed that the mission was far too dangerous. She wasn’t fully trained, and her skillsets weren’t needed. They weren’t walking into a battle...this was purely an apprehensive task, and adding another person to the mix just made their inconspicuity less viable. 

Once they had settled in, they began to pour over maps of Bilbousa...checking transport logs and shipping dates in order to create a possible contact zone for Tyran. The bounty hunter’s trade parameters were splattered all over the city...even on into the wastes a considerable distance, but there was a concentration of activity near the bazaar that suggested he might live in the vicinity...or at least frequent it often. The morning after their arrival they donned their cloaks and made as surreptitious a path into the city as possible. Up close, the metropolis was no prettier; shrouded in a thick swath of yellow smog and dismally illuminated by dull custard-colored buildings. Porthole windows cast seemingly soulless glares onto dusty crowded streets thronged by weary, bitter-looking citizens. The bazaar was an ugly place, filled to bursting with vendors selling rusty space junk and liquor that seemed to have the consistency of rocket fuel. The food was unrecognizable, foul-smelling and foreign...as unpleasant to the eye as it was to the nose. Anakin found himself stumbling into alleyways to empty the contents of his inconveniently delicate stomach more than once. Drug-addled slaves sprawled outside of ‘flesh shops’...barely dressed and hardly lucid; dragging ill-minded customers to their Hutt Masters for filthy purchase. 

“It reminds me of Tatooine” Anakin muttered, leaning against a stall while Obi-Wan scanned the crowds about them. “Except worse.” 

“We’re not here to appreciate it” was the stern reply. “The sooner we find the bounty hunter, the sooner we leave.”

They spent the better part of a month lurking about, occasionally peddling to the local that recognized them from previous days, trading credits for their silence. The acidic rain was perpetual, and Anakin found that it stained the tips of his organic hand a rusty orange...under his nails and smelling like minted copper. Asking about Tyran brought forth nothing but terrified looks and hasty retreats, half-muttered threats and the occasional curse. People knew who he was...but he had either made them rich or made them miserable and they dared not reveal anything more. By the end of the fourth week they were wretched...tired of looking at the misery of a planet that was slowly dying of poison and corruption. Anakin caught himself watching the Twi’lek slaves stumble out of the flesh shops to inject themselves with an apathetic eye...the stench of sex and ruin practically burnt into his skin. Increasingly, Obi-Wan was prone to suggest that he remain with Nardus; observing his moroseness and disgust with a keen and calculating eye. Truthfully, Anakin was sorely tempted to take him up on his request...but the idea of leaving his former Master to walk such ugly streets alone was nauseating. If he was kidnapped here, in Hutt Space in the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim...he would never see him again, he was sure of it. So he stayed close and kept his head down, occasionally reaching into the nuances of the Force for serenity and comfort...whatever good it did him.

In the middle of the fifth week, they got a lead. Anakin managed to gently coax some information out of a drunk Zeltronian who stumbled out of a gambling kiosk with her shirt torn off. Offering her a spare tunic he kept with him for emergencies, he managed to find out that Tyran collected ‘debts’ from vendors who owed him favors once every seven days shortly after lunch. Those who didn’t pay were often never seen again. The ‘collection office’ was only a short walk from where they were standing, and they set off at a brisk pace. There was a line. It was strange-Anakin thought with grim humor-he and his mother used to stand in similar lines on Tatooine to pay their dues. For their right to live in their little hovel of a home, for their few possessions and small debts. A little girl clutching her father's hand gave him a resentful look, as if knowledgeable of the life he had managed to escape by pure stroke of luck. It was unsettling to a degree he wasn’t usually prone to admit, and when Obi-Wan distracted him by dragging him off to the side to observe in a shadowed corner, he was grateful.

The collection went on until late in the afternoon, and by the time the crowd had thinned even the slightest, they were both drenched to the bone in acidic rain. Their view of Tyran brought them no relief. The bounty hunter was dressed head to toe in flight gear; black, with silver boots, shoulder plates, and gauntlets. His hair was blue-shoulder length-and he wore a mask that covered the bottom half of his face, parting around his nose and cheeks while going up over his forehead. Eyes as red as blood burned in tilted sockets...his skin as pale as starlight. He was alone, which spoke volumes to his confidence in his skillset...whatever that might be. Tyran carried a blaster at his hip, but one glance at it told him that it wasn’t charged and was of a fairly old make and model. Anakin caught a multitude of languages spilling from his mouth, some he knew and others he didn’t. No one contested the sums he called out, and those who hesitated were gestured into the tent behind him. They didn’t come back out. As time passed, he could sense Obi-Wan becoming more and more frustrated. Venturing into the Bond, he was surprised to see that his former Master was pushing out with the force...but the moment it got close to Tyran, it dissipated. He frowned. There was no technology that was powerful enough to block the mechanisms of the Force; only someone with training could block a probe, and you’d have to have been pretty advanced to detect Obi-Wan...let alone shield from him.

“Stop” Anakin muttered through gritted teeth.

The older man looked mildly irritated but did as he was told, withdrawing and tucking his arms into his cloak.

“He knows we’re here but he hasn’t made any move to escape” was the thoughtful reply. “What does that tell you?”

“He’s powerful” Anakin said grimly. “I can’t sense his Signature but he can sense ours.” He watched with dedicated concentration as the bounty hunter stood and dragged a screaming Aqualish into the tent...seemingly with no effort at all. “We should strike now.”

“We can’t” was the immediate reply. “There’s too many civilians...we’re not even supposed to be here, Anakin. We’re not in Republic space, the laws you and I know don’t apply here. If we get captured, there’s no telling what they’ll do to us.” He nodded at Tyran. “He knows it too. If we make a move, what’s to say he won’t call for help? The man’s practically unarmed...if we try to say he’s a criminal, who would believe us?” 

“Then we should leave” the young man replied quietly. “He has too much of an advantage. Once he’s done packing up...he’ll either disappear, call… _whatever_ constitutes as the law in this place, or attack us with tactics we don’t know.” He glanced behind them, down a dark alleyway that ran between the shops. “There” he muttered. “And make it quick.”

Without bothering to concur, Obi-Wan ducked into a shadowed side-street and set off at a brisk pace. Glancing back, Anakin was alarmed to see that Tyran had risen from his seat and was looking straight at them. Sending a frantic push through their Bond, he used the Force to urge Obi-Wan to speed up...taking a sharp left at a stall full of what looked like dead purple rats, and right at a large flesh shop. Anakin grudgingly admitted he might be catering to the Code more and more these days. A few years earlier, he would have jumped into a confrontation like that without a second thought. Now, he was more cautious...though he couldn’t really say if it was because he was older or because he had learned his lesson far too many times. For a few apprehensive minutes, it seemed as if they had given their mysterious adversary the slip, what with no indication from behind that they were being followed. Then, abruptly, Obi-Wan froze in his tracks and Anakin collided with him roughly...abruptly, the ground two feet in front of them exploded. 

Looking back on the moment, he had only a vague recollection of what happened next. Obi-Wan, acting faster than Anakin had ever seen him move, propelled him sideways into a stall of crated fruit. Having nothing with which to catch himself, he allowed himself to fall like he’d practiced so many times at the Temple. He was consciously aware of a virulent series of hissing noises that whizzed past him, missing by centimeters. Half a dozen knives glowing with what appeared to be Force crystals embedded themselves in the wall opposite with a metallic hum that was utterly chilling. Rolling -ignoring the signals from his body that said it needed to throw up, _now_ -Anakin jumped to his feet and threw himself behind a cement wall just in time to miss two more Force dirks, which he then had the pleasure of seeing turn around and whiz straight back into the hands of their wielder. Tyran regarded him with his rubicund eyes dispassionately, his expression predatory, not combative. He lifted a hand and Anakin felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck as the other six knives yanked themselves out of the wall and return to hover lazily around their master...rotating in unearthly circles. Any passerby who may have previously occupied the street had fled with the usual terrified screams of horror, leaving that section of the market utterly desolate. 

Anakin felt a surge of relief as Obi-Wan threw himself into the alleyway a few moments later with a few layers of dried plaster in his hair but looking otherwise no worse for wear. He shot Anakin his- _’we are rather fucked, my young padawan’_ -look and drew his lightsaber. The younger man copied him and they played a rather dangerous game of ‘dodge the Force-Sensitive twirly-knives’ before the bounty hunter apparently got bored and flicked a casual palm at a barrel just behind Obi-Wan. Thankfully, the older man had the sense to dive forward-ending his velocity with an abrupt dodge-roll to the left. Anakin followed at a slightly more leisurely pace, still wincing when the barrel exploded and sent fire and debris to the heavens. This seemed to have brought them within closer proximity to Tyran, but instead of looking apprehensive he looked expressly bored...something Anakin did not like at all. Forgetting his lightsaber momentarily, he concentrated on the Force...drawing it up from the center of his being so he could channel it outwards...watching in satisfaction as the knives around their adversary shivered, rotated, and faced unanimously inwards towards Tyran. Red eyes snapped to him, widened in what appeared to be shock and disbelief; but before Anakin could send them plunging into something vital they dropped with a clatter...their light all but extinguished. Simultaneously, the bounty hunter seemed to vault himself into midair; rotating swiftly perhaps fifteen feet above them in order to land on top of a building. It was a Force Jump, to be sure, but Anakin didn’t know anyone save himself who could use it to jump so high without any previous propulsion. He didn’t have time to contemplate it, however, as Obi-Wan chose that moment to grab him by the waist and throw him who-knows-where.

There was a massive explosion somewhere around them and fire sprung up in front of his eyes...singing his eyebrows and causing him to throw his arm up to shield his face. Then he was falling, falling fast and uninhibited and he only had the time to slow himself minimally before he hit liquid that was thick but shallow. The back of his head struck concrete and the last thing he was aware of was the fact that it smelled absolutely _terrible_....and then there was darkness.

___________________________________________________________

In all fairness, the world was falling to flame and he was panicking rather spectacularly when he threw Anakin into a sewage tunnel. He’d only got the briefest, most split-second warning from the Force before he’d been required to act quickly...without so much as a second thought. The exit was there...and he made sure the young man took it, hoping beyond every star in the galaxy that he’d be alright once he joined him. The explosions hadn’t quite died down by the time he slid the cover over the entrance to the tunnel, and he hoped that would be enough to hide their hasty retreat. Of course, that led him to find Anakin utterly dead to the world and half-drowned in about three inches of filthy, acidic water. So he panicked a little bit more until he gathered his wits enough to check if he was breathing, which he was, and hoisted the man’s arm over his shoulder...beating a path away from the scene of the battle and into a matrix of tunnels and drop-offs. It wasn’t until about an hour later, when he was practically blind with exhaustion and couldn’t sense anything remotely threatening in the Force that he put Anakin down on a relatively dry surface and realised he had made a very grave error. Obi-Wan had grown up on Coruscant, where taking a wrong turn could have you lost until the end of days...doomed to wander the countless levels of an endless city ‘till you dropped dead of exhaustion. He’d taken it one step further and thrown them _under_ the city...into an unfamiliar waste-treatment system that assumably went on for several miles with who knew how many twists and turns.

Obi-Wan uttered a curse that no one could hear and sat down heavily, taking a moment to close his eyes and take several deep breaths. He had never met anyone with a Force Signature nearly as powerful as Anakin’s, but today seemed to be a first for many things. Whatever Tyran was, he was certainly not a Hutt’s subservient attendant...he was employed of his own free will with a means to an end. He wasn’t a Sith by title, but he might as well be...everything about him screamed of the Dark Side, from his careless yet confident use of the force to the freakish daggers that he controlled with his mind. He would need to report every detail of their encounter to the Council before they tried anything else, it would be foolhardy not to. Obi-Wan seriously doubted that Tyran was the Sith Lord they were looking for, he was far too much out of the way and too much of his Signature spoke of little discipline and self-training. If he had to wager a guess he would assume the man was at least half Chiss, and very young judging by his hair color. Young Siths were rare...almost a novelty in the war waged between Light and Dark, and they didn’t lower themselves to collecting money from commoners like simple beggars. Whatever his purpose, it was certainly personal, and not on a Galactic scale. Not yet at least.

A groan next to him brought his attention back to the present, and Obi-Wan watched as Anakin’s eyes opened blearily...taking in the dull maintenance lights around them and the awful state of their cloaks. His hand rose to the back of his head and rubbed in a distracted sort of way while he hastily checked his cloak for his lightsaber, the relief in his eyes evident as he found the weapon strapped to his belt. The young man then went back to observing their environment with a practiced eye, his mouth forming a sort of bemused smirk. 

“Well, s’not so bad” he commented, his voice slightly slurred. “Could be worse.”

“We’re surrounded by sewage and lost” Obi-Wan said matter-of-factly. “How can it get any worse?”

“I take it that crazy bounty hunter is gone….?”

“For the moment” he agreed. “But we need to find a way back to the swamp and report to the Council.”

“Not much we can get attacked by down here I reckon.”

“Anakin...we’re surrounded by bacteria.”

“Obi-Wan...we’re Jedi, we don’t get sick. What could we possibly get sick from?”

“Dysentery” he snapped.

The young man raised a brow.

“I surely hope you don’t plan on _eating_ the sewage.”

“What?! For Force’s sake Anakin...of course not!!”

“Well, my medical knowledge is kinda limited, but I’m pretty sure you can only get dysentery if you eat shit so I kinda figured that was where you were going-”

“-Oh sod off” Obi-Wan snapped. “There’s...there’s… _stuff_ floating in the air...it’s not just on the floor.”

“There’s shit in the air” Anakin said, then repeated the statement contemplatively, as if he’d just uttered poetry. 

“Yes. That. How _hard_ did you hit your head?”

“I’m a little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“And...and…?” his eyes flickered to Anakin’s heavy robes, particularly over his abdominal area.

Understanding blossomed in the his former padawan’s eyes.

“We’re both fine” he said quietly. 

“I forgot the filter masks” Obi-Wan said regretfully. “I need some time to meditate to ascertain our location.” He dug into the pocket of his robes for a ration bar and handed it to Anakin, who grimaced but took it. “Try and get some rest.”

Figuring out their location proved a lot harder than he’d originally planned. There was no telling time in the tunnels, as there was no source of outside light...and the Force currents here were catatonic...synchronized with the slowly-dying atmosphere of the planet and difficult to commune with. They ate and slept in shifts in order to make sure neither of them accidently rolled into the filthy water that was often only inches away from their feet...murky, with unmentionable things swimming within it. Anakin threw up more than he ate...and the water bottles they’d collected at the beginning of their venture were beginning to run dangerously low. When they weren’t resting or eating, they were walking...guided by the small snatches of guidance Obi-Wan received from the Force. Twice, they were forced to backtrack after encountering cesspools more than waist high. Obi-Wan didn’t fancy encountering a fully-grown Dianoga, and this was practically a safe haven for them. Swimming in sewer water was rather like dancing with death. As the days wore on he began to think that perhaps their time under the city was making him go spare. Several times he managed to convince himself he’d lost his way, only to receive the faintest of whispers from the Force urging him to continue. 

“I’d like a bath” Anakin said idly, plucking at the sleeve of his ruined cloak. “And I’m kinda sick of rations.”

He estimated that it was about their fourth night stuck in the damnable place...though it was becoming increasingly hard to tell.

“We’re running low” Obi-Wan said darkly. “Enjoy them while they last.”

When they first saw the light of day in front of them, he was positively sure it was a trick of the mind. Blinking rapidly, he attempted to dispel the image, telling himself it would do absolutely no good to hallucinate now. Then Anakin made a sound of delight beside him, and he was sorely tempted to jump up and down out of sheer relief. They exited to the North of Bilbousa and were forced to backtrack in order to head back to the swamp. It took them the better part of the day to get back to Nardus’ home, and the old Evocii greeted them with a look of utter exhaustion and happiness. They’d had no signal in the tunnels and their communicators died within a few days of each other...he’d been forced to wonder if they were dead. It turned out that they had been gone for the better part of a week and a half, wandering in utter seclusion. When they told Nardus about where they’d been, he looked-if possible-even more relieved than before. The sewage tunnels under Bilbousa were famous for their complexity. City workers who went down to repair leaks or patch cracks always wore tethers that would lead them back to the surface. Before it became a habit one was prone to hear stories of people who ventured too far from the access ducts, got lost, and eventually perished. Obi-Wan had never felt luckier. 

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, Anakin immediately went to shed his clothes and take a bath while he compiled a report for the Council. Both of them needed a good night’s rest but it was vital that he store whatever information he could recall as soon as possible. If he left it off for the next day, he was less likely to be succinct. Anakin tended to scoff at paperwork, but he rather enjoyed it. It was much like keeping a journal, and it helped him separate fact from emotion. Once he’d finished, Obi-Wan made a leisurely path to their poor excuse of a ‘fresher, picking a clean change of clothes out on the way. Anakin was brushing his teeth when he entered, his towel slung low over his hips. His eyes were immediately drawn to the swell of his stomach; a subtle but undeniable slope...finally prominent. It brought the reality of what all could have gone terribly wrong during their mission. Force! He had _thrown_ Anakin down a sewer pipe!! To be fair, it was that or explode, but still. Obi-Wan had a sudden desperate desire to embrace him, to envelope him in the Force and check every corner of his body for his well-being. 

“...You can touch me, y’know. I'm not gonna fall apart or anything.”

Anakin’s voice was subtle, a bit flirtatious even, but he didn't miss the undertones of insecurity, or the way he let his fingers inch along the edge of his towel, as if itching to pull it up. Carefully, almost reverently, Obi-Wan closed the small space between them. Taking painstaking care not to let his grimy robes brush against clean skin, he took Anakin’s organic hand and threaded it through his, capturing his mouth and reaching down to gently press his other palm against the small protrusion that was the life they had created. The moan from his former padawan was immediate, low and slightly rough, tinged by a heavy ardor. He let his tongue flick over the brim of a lip for a second, tasting the musky flavor that was distinctly Anakin before regretfully pulling back. 

“I’ve got to bathe” he said apologetically. He let his fingers splay over the swell of their child. “...Does it feel...different?”

Anakin looked thoughtful for a moment, tilting his head and letting his organic hand tentatively cover Obi-Wan’s. 

“Not really” he replied, chewing his lip. “Sometimes I think I can feel it-the baby I mean” he said, correcting himself swiftly. “It’s not-you know-a sentient Signature, but it’s peaceful...alive.” He sighed. “Sometimes...a lot of times...I just try not to think about it.”

“It’s our child Anakin” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“I _know_ ” was the slightly sad reply. “I just...everything’s changing in me...I’m tired when I shouldn’t be and sick when I want to just get through the day. I wake up and I’m so fucking horny I just want to ride you ‘till the suns go down...and I’m starting to think boontaspiced mustard and pallie ice cream sound like heaven in a bowl. If I think about it too much...I know I’m gonna do something stupid.”

“I’m here for you, you know” the older man said gently. “You’re not alone.”

Anakin smiled and cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek.

“Yeah, I know. And I know this kid’s gonna be stuffy and picky just like you are.” He laughed. “Well...I sure as hell hope he’s not like me.”

“You’re incorrigible” Obi-Wan chuckled, kissing his nose gently. “But if you were any other way, I don’t think I’d have given you the time of day.”

“It’s what I live for” the younger man said playfully, then sobered. “Still, you’ve been my world for a while now...if I ever knew anything else...I’ve forgotten it.” He glanced down at his stomach. “I guess this baby’s just another surprise we’ve got to handle...in whatever way we can.”

“...We can’t be Jedi, Anakin...you know that.”

The younger man smiled crookedly, and the emotion in his beautiful blue eyes was truly heartbreaking.

“Let me dream for a little while more, Master. Being a Jedi is all we’ve both known, other than slavery and hardship. I promise, when the time is right, you’ll know what we have to do. But for now, I’m not done being a Jedi. Whatever else may come, as long as I have the Force and my lightsaber, I can handle it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I know a lot of this chapter was text and not a lot of dialogue, but that's pretty normal for me. Moreover, I wanted to have some action in this before things progressed too far with the pregnancy. Tyran is and OC, but he's not going to play an immense role in this fic. We'll be wrapping his involvement up in the next chapter, as I need our two lovebirds to return to Coruscant so Palpatine can get involved (oh, joy!). I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had fun writing it. Just to give you a bit of a schedule for updates...I generally post every five to seven days-so, a week, to narrow it down a bit. I do not have a beta, so I do all the editing myself, and that takes time. Thank you for reading!
> 
> **R &R**


	4. Help Me To Understand

Anakin sneezed mightily as a passing Hutt threw up a cloud of murky dust.

Beside him, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow...chewing absentmindedly on a ration bar he’d been working through for the better part of an hour. The pervasive rain had stopped, thankfully; but it left in its wake a sort of miasmic fog that clouded the senses and dulled the mind. Moreover, the awful stench of the bazaar was increased tenfold with no humidity to mask it. He felt like he was fighting the urge to ralph far more often than should be physically necessary, nothing was worse than being dirty and nauseous. In all honesty, he was finding he could care less if Nal-Hutta exploded and was wiped off the face of the Galaxy. This was starting to be one of the most drawn-out, tedious missions they’d ever participated in, and he was sick to death of it. Never mind the diseased atmosphere and the depraved populace, it felt like the essence of the planet itself was beginning to seep into his bones and pervade his mental buoyancy. He was fairly sure that pregnant people were supposed to remain reasonably cheerful...and boy, was it _weird_ to group himself in with the phrase _‘pregnant people’_ , but hey; definition was certainly a bitch. As if to emphasize the ridiculousness of the entire situation, his stomach growled irritably. Obi-Wan wordlessly handed him the remainder of his ration and went back to surveying the street. 

“I’m not hungry _all_ the time” Anakin grumbled defensively through a mouthful of the awful stuff. 

His former Master’s only reply was a sidetracked ‘mmm’ of acknowledgement. The younger man huffed and returned his gaze to the bazaar. Upon delivering their news of the bounty hunter’s massive prowess with the Force to the Council, they’d been ordered to keep track of his movements in the city but refrain from striking until they could send reinforcements. Mace Windu himself had perked up enough to hop the next transport to that part of the Outer Rim, and they were now simply waiting for his arrival. Anakin finished off the ration and began to rummage in the pocket of his robes for his water flask, frowning distractedly. Now that he knew Tyran’s Signature, it was hard to ignore. He was a pervasive, insidious presence in the city...not that it wasn’t already bad without him, but having the equivalent of an untrained Nightsister in the vicinity was just icing on the cake. They’d taken to shielding to a degree that they usually only reserved for missions that involved Sith Lords, which expended a lot of energy and concentration. Tyran obviously no longer felt the need to shield, apparently thinking that he’d wiped them out with explosives. Obviously, he’d not been around too many Jedi if he thought they were no more resilient than a couple pounds of C-4. Anakin worried his lip, watching idly as an obviously inebriated street-cleaner staggered past them carrying what looked like old newspapers. 

Another downside to their current predicament was that they couldn’t have sex, at all. Since Anakin’s body had evidently decided that lube was overrated, by the time they crawled into bed at night he was horny and hot...dying to be fucked absolutely senseless, but with their host only a few rooms away and virtually no auditory dampening in the hollow walls, it was impossible. Instead, he was forced to stare up at the ceiling and will his raging hormones to subside while Obi-Wan rubbed gentle circles into his back. He’d wake up to find slick rubbing between his thighs, his entrance dilated and aching with arousal only to have to get up and ignore it. It’d been years since his libido was high enough to have to hide an erection at inconvenient times, but now it was as if his body had decided to be a teenager all over again. He had no idea how he was going to explain it if they had to share a room with Master Windu and he ended up humping the mattress for no apparent reason in the middle of the night. Obi-Wan was kind enough to wake him up in order to stop his overly-loud moaning...but he doubted the elder Council Member would be as accommodating or understanding. Not only was it wildly inappropriate, it was intensely embarrassing. 

Anakin blinked distractedly as Obi-Wan’s pocket-communicator beeped, and watched curiously as his former Master pulled it out of his pocket and squinted at the screen. 

“It seems that Master Windu has arrived” he commented, hastily punching in a response and putting the device away. “He says he will meet us here.” 

“We’re doing this now?” Anakin asked warily. “We don’t even have a strategy.”

“Any strategy we formulate is going to be useless against someone like Tyran in any case” was the calm response. “He doesn’t have any formal training, so his tactics are completely out of our scope of understanding.” He glanced at Anakin, his gaze softening. “If you want to return to the swamp while Mace and I take care of this, I would understand.” 

“I’m not crippled you know” the younger man snapped. 

“No, you’re not” Obi-Wan agreed. “You’re-” 

-Thankfully, Mace Windu chose that moment to emerge out of the crowd of people thronging the marketplace, ending any opportunities for further debate. They stepped forward to greet him individually, eager to begin their search and end their time on Nal Hutta. 

“I’m glad to see you both well” Mace commented as they turned as one and began to stride down the street. “You’re both following orders and keeping back for once...a wise choice.”

“It seemed like the sensible thing to do” Obi-Wan replied. “We don’t know anything about our target...even less than we thought we did, it seems.”

“Our goal today is to apprehend the target and take him back to Coruscant” the elder Jedi commented, stopping to scan a side-street with a practiced eye.

“We’re not going to question him?”

“Let’s just get this piece of bantha fodder so we can go home” Anakin muttered. “Whatever happens to him afterwards is none of our concern.”

He didn’t miss the surprised look Mace Windu shot him.

“...Indeed, Knight Skywalker. Our job here is merely to retrieve...not to interrogate.”

“Tyran will have moved his collection post at this point” Obi-Wan said idly. “His Force Signature is further away in any case.”

“Why does someone with the manipulative capability of a Sith apprentice waste his time ferrying debts?” Anakin said darkly.

“He likely doesn't know any other kind of life” Mace replied, sidestepping a puddle. “What would you be if Qui-Gon hadn’t brought you back from Tatooine?”

 _“Not pregnant”_ Anakin thought irritably, but didn't deign to humor Windu with a reply.

They’d reached an open area of the market; one where the shops were lined against the circular perimeter while the vendors peddled their wares at the center; stopping unsuspecting traders in an attempt to lure them to their products. Now however, the shopkeepers had retreated to the walls so Tyran could set up his ill-minded collection venue in the middle. Once they were considerably close, Mace indicated that he was going to close in on the opposite side in order to prevent any means of escape. Without another word, the tall Jedi-Master disappeared into the crowd. Already, people were starting to line up to offer a fraction of their earnings, and Anakin clenched his teeth and slammed his shields down to prevent any excess emotion from breaking through. It was bad enough that this piece of shit was terrorizing half the city, taking money from the poor was just putting him in his bad books on a permanent level. They’d agreed not to interfere until the majority of the payees had dispersed, in order not to cause a scene or draw the attention of the authorities. Whatever the outcome, the fight was going to be ugly. The less collateral damage, the better. Still, it tore at every single fiber of his morality to watch as members of the populace in threadbare clothes handed over their savings; faces shadowed by hunger and loss. It was hard to tell if Tyran enjoyed this particular aspect of his job, especially with the mask that guarded his face...but it was easier to pretend that he did. Chances were high that they might have to kill or wound him grievously in order to get him to surrender. 

It was nearing dusk when the last debtor started to wander away from the stand, towing three young children with bare and blistered feet. Across the circle, Anakin watched as Mace began to move forward, and he and Obi-Wan echoed his movements. It was with bated breath that they closed in, watching as the blue-haired bounty hunter counted the sums he had ‘earned’...his gaze occasionally flitting around the market. They were ten feet away when their cover was blown. A ripple tumbled through the nuances of the Force-red and jagged like a lightning strike-Tyran stiffened and his head snapped up, his gaze immediately falling on Mace. The Jedi Master had but seconds to roll to the right before familiar glowing daggers hissed through the space his head had been moments ago. Dropping all pretense of stealth, Anakin and Obi-Wan drew their lightsabers-former padawan shifting to the right and the other to the left-triangulating their position with Windu’s. Tyran’s daggers returned to him, and for a moment he stood perfectly still, his gaze flitting between the three of them as if gauging the situation. Then, so swiftly Anakin would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking, he rotated his wrist in a circular motion-fingers undulating-and jabbed it towards the ground. It was a basic move, to be sure, one that padawans learned within the first week of apprenticeship, but the power behind it far surpassed any initiate trainee. The ground around the bounty hunter trembled momentarily, and then great chunks of packed earth flew into the air-obscuring their target from view-before bursting outwards. Both Obi-Wan and Mace were knocked to the ground, only Anakin’s experience with plowing through massive sandstorms in order to get back home kept him upright. 

There was a flurry of movement behind him-upwards and to the right-and he swung instinctively, working his way through ingrained kata as his blade sliced through steel. The dagger thrown at his back shuddered momentarily before falling to the earth...its glow extinguished. By that time, Obi-Wan had regained his footing and was off along the perimeter with his usual swiftness, rotating to catch Tyran’s arm with his saber before he had the chance to throw again. Sensing the potential loss of limb, the bounty hunter ducked and rolled; his fingers contorting again and Anakin had the immense pleasure of watching Mace force-jump to avoid a massive hole that was ripped open at his feet; a yawning abyss that swallowed the soil around it like the hungry maw of a sarlacc pit. He could feel the elder Jedi’s shock at the display of raw power before them and smiled inwardly. It would take more than dogma and tradition to defeat an untrained Force manipulative...the Temple encouraged improvisation, but not cunning. He came to the swift realization that he was going to have to cheat. Taking a moment to recover himself, Anakin watched the battle as a non-participant for a moment before raising his hand and motioning lazily. Tyran, who had been about to throw another round of daggers at an increasingly frustrated-looking Mace, froze. Red eyes widened as the bounty hunter found himself suddenly unable to move. Anakin smirked and gestured again. Time contorted in on itself, and he watched with a macabre satisfaction as their adversary’s body connected with the concrete wall of the perimeter and fell to the ground. 

He did not move.

There was silence for a moment as the dust settled. Anakin could sense Mace’s surprise...mixed with a deep discontent, along with Obi-Wan’s irritability...bordering on anger.

“That was not necessary, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was thick with disapproval. The young man raised an eyebrow and sheathed his saber, clipping it to his belt.

“Seemed like you two were struggling, so I thought I’d lend a hand” he said idly. 

“You should have stopped when you immobilized him” his former Master snapped, striding over to the fallen bounty hunter and checking his pulse before producing a pair of Force Cuffs. “There was no need to nearly break his neck.” 

“He’ll live, won’t he?” was the irritated reply. 

“That’s not the point, you employed violence when there was no need for it...you let us engage in combat when you could have incapacitated him immediately.”

“I didn’t really think it would work...it only occurred to me a few minutes in. Besides...at least he got a fair fight.”

“When possible, Jedi strive to avoid egregious combat” Mace said firmly, ending the discussion. 

Obi-Wan kept shooting him angry looks all the way back to Windu’s shuttle, but Anakin couldn’t bring himself to get defensive over it. He was tired. The amount of Force needed to totally immobilize someone as powerful as Tyran was draining...and he’d just wanted it over with. Once the unconscious bounty hunter was secure in the holding cell, Windu thanked them for their time...Obi-Wan much more generously than Anakin, and told them he’d see them back on Coruscant. In different circumstances, they might have gone with him, but they had their own ship to see to and Obi-Wan was particularly insistent on thanking Nardus for his extended hospitality. The old Evocii was sorry to see them go, but at the same time grateful for the cause that had brought them there. Making Nal Hutta a safer place, even minimally, was worthy of great admiration and respect. When they had finished packing, he embraced both of them, and sent them on their way with colorful, hand-stitched handkerchiefs. 

Their ship was only two miles to the South, nestled in a grove carefully obscured by the wild swampy growth that surrounded them. Anakin checked the electronic components on the exterior-over a month of acidic rain was hard on anything mechanic-while Obi-Wan calibrated the autopilot for their return. Some of the shields needed rewiring and there was a slight buckle on the left side of the hull, but they got everything patched up within an hour and a half. By then they were fairly hungry, and they paused to split a ration bar and a bottle of water before firing up the boosters and running a second systems check just to be safe. Watching the surface of Nal-Hutta recede below them, Anakin couldn’t help the intense feeling of relief that suffused him. They were going home, safe and fairly unscathed. Very few missions turned out so well, and he was glad for it.

Once Obi-Wan was sure the autopilot was engaged and functioning properly, he gestured for Anakin to follow him to their sleeping quarters so they could talk. Resigning himself to a lecture, the younger man followed with some trepidation. The ship they had borrowed was built for long-distance missions. It was a dull grey-convenient for cloaking-and roughly capsule shaped. The navigational console was at the front and seated two, with a tiny sleeping cabin outfitted with a double mattress low to the floor, and as small a ‘fresher as Standard Regulations would allow at the rear. The vessel ran on both solar power and your typical grade B fuel cells, and was outfitted with forward and rear-facing laser cannons. Certainly no luxury ship, not by a long shot, but it was accommodating nevertheless. Anakin watched warily as his former Master shed his cloak and boots in a world-weary sort of way and sank down cross-legged on the mattress. After a moment, he did the same and the only sound between them for a few minutes was the hum of the ship. 

“Anakin...we’ve talked about controlling your temper.”

The younger man swallowed. Now that the moment was past, he felt some small mitigations of shame. Part of him, the part guided by the Force and years of Jedi training, knew what he had done was wrong. Still yet another, darker part of him whispered that it didn’t _care_ , that he hadn’t been angry, simply impatient. 

“I wasn’t upset” he muttered, looking down at his hands. 

“Then what were you?” Obi-Wan said gently, taking Anakin’s gloved mechno-hand and tracing a thumb over his fingers. “Help me to understand.”

“I was…” he fumbled desperately for a description. “I just...he was so weak, and he didn’t know anything about the Principles. I felt...more powerful than he was...and I wanted to show him I was.” 

“...Anakin, displays of power and authority aren’t the Jedi way” his former Master said firmly. “It doesn’t matter how weak or inexperienced...or _cruel_ your opponent is. We fight to defend the Galaxy, not to show superiority.” He sighed. “Our child doesn’t need to know cruelty, or lust for power. It feeds off your emotions, and if you are unstable and unpredictable, he or she won’t feel safe with you.”

And, as always, Obi-Wan’s words struck that soft, rational chord deep inside him that only he seemed to be able to reach. His former Master’s logic was impeccable, he wasn’t called ‘The Negotiator’ for nothing. Anakin’s shoulders slumped, and he was suddenly accosted by an intense feeling of weariness. 

“I’m sorry” he said quietly. “I...lost control.”

Familiar fingers, scarred and yet gentle, grasped his chin and Anakin opened his mouth to accept Obi-Wan’s kiss. It felt like eons since they’d been able to show their affection so openly, and he clung to the moment like a man starved for water. 

“We all make mistakes” was the gentle response. “As long as you learn from them, you’ll continue to grow.”

______________________________________________________________________

Anakin’s body was pale from so many months spent under Nal-Hutta’s miasmic haze.

Running his hands along dune-colored thighs, Obi-Wan reflected that despite his lack of a tan, his form was still perfect. Pregnancy agreed with him, and he supposed it should...though he’d never say it out loud; lest he risk a meltdown. Though his musculature was no less defined, his skin was softer...his hair slightly fuller, his Force Signature blossoming with the life inside of him. A soft moan rose from flushed flips, discolored from kissing as he mouthed over the subtle swell of Anakin’s stomach, sending a gentle push through the Force in time with his movements before moving downwards to suckle the fluid curve of a hip. Slender fingers gently carded through Obi-Wan’s hair, tugging lightly as he ran his tongue down the juncture of his thigh. Anakin’s need was gently brushing along his cheek...glossy with precum; thick and achingly hard….but his goal was the moist juncture beneath, beyond his perineum where he could feel the heat of his arousal. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t flirtatious or promiscuous by any means...he was a romantic at heart, but he’d have had to be blind to miss how Anakin’s hormones had tortured him in the past few weeks. He’d woken to find his former padawan flushed with sweat, his eyes glossy with pent-up sexual energy and had to leave the room to keep himself from giving in. He was older...yes, but that didn’t mean that he found temptation easy to resist, especially from someone he loved dearly. Swiping his thumb over Anakin’s opening, his breath hitched at the ragged moan he received in response. They wouldn’t have time in the next few weeks to enjoy themselves like this. There would be tasks for them at the Temple and reports to fill out detailing their time on the wretched planet they were leaving behind. Their child was going to limit the amount of options they had in the bedroom...and Obi-Wan knew Anakin was loathe to get to that point without experiencing some pleasure for himself beforehand. 

_“Nnngh...hnnn...there...ohhh...there…”_

He watched appreciatively as lithe hips rose and fell with the thrust of his fingers…moisture gathering on the sheets as Anakin’s body opened to him; familiar yet utterly different. A twist of his wrist and he was arching off the sheets, a breathy and strangled moan falling from his mouth as a pink tongue ran over the edge of his lips. Eyes as blue as Kamino gazed at him in a distracted haze of lust...exceptionally intimate, thoroughly inexorable. It was easy to get lost in Anakin...in the roll of his emotions and the near-suffocating weight of his affection. Moving upwards to suck at the soft coral of a nipple, Obi-Wan reflected that he had resisted far longer than was probably necessary. They were pulled together by something beyond them...some deep nuance of the Universe that he didn’t quite understand but was thoroughly starting to. It was there in the knowledge that Anakin carried his child...a Force Sensitive child that would bear both of their features and traits...like the lines of identity across a human palm. He couldn’t think of it as anything but a gift beyond his capabilities of perception. 

_“Obi-Wan”_ Anakin murmured, letting his fingers trail down the aforementioned man’s spine. “C’mon...fuck me.” 

All careless diction and harsh words...practically the opposite of anything he considered remotely nurturing, but here he was. Obi-Wan gently maneuvered Anakin onto his side, mirroring his position at his back and gently gripping the curve of his ass as he slid home with a soft, barely-distinguishable moan. Anakin’s breath caught, and he gasped as a wave of pleasure drove its way across their Force Bond...a throb of deep-seated satisfaction that had every limb in his body tingling. ...It was here, in the soft hungry heat of Anakin’s body...the acknowledgement of strong and supple hips working back against his as he bit into a shoulder blade...that he wondered if he hadn’t known just a little bit, hadn’t _wanted_ this.... The thought fled almost immediately as it had come, and he carefully wrapped his arm around Anakin’s waist, careful not to press too hard as he began a series of long, deep thrusts and was rewarded by a heavy groan. A hand came up to card across his cheek...around the nape of his neck and he shifted to mouth across Anakin’s palm, a ripple of amusement flowing between them as he captured a slender finger in his mouth and sucked idly.

He always knew when Anakin was about to come. It was usually after he managed to find his prostate and teased it for a while...alternating between hard and fast...slow and tantalizing. A thin film of perspiration would gather over his skin...like dew settling on grass in the morning and a light flush would suffuse his cheeks while his eyes grew heavy and distant. He shivered as Anakin’s muscles fluttered around him…’milking’ he called it whenever he was fucking Obi-Wan...and his mouth fell open in a soundless exclamation of pleasure. And then it was up to him to hold on as he released, hips bucking as he spilled his pleasure onto the sheets in pearlescent strings...shuddering and helpless. Obi-Wan bit down hard on his upper lip as he tumbled over the edge in quick succession, gasping as he spilled deep inside of him...utterly lost in a world of ecstasy that was theirs and theirs alone. And he knew that being a Jedi wasn’t worth losing this...nothing was worth the cost of what they had with each other. 

Breathing heavily, he carefully withdrew and watched as Anakin turned to face him, a contented smile on his face. They kissed idly for a while, errant endearments slipping from tired lips as the fires of their passion slowly settled. And as they curled lazily into each other’s arms in the aftermath, Obi-Wan was profoundly grateful. A world without Anakin Skywalker, now that he knew what it was like to have him in it, was no world at all. He could only hope that Anakin would see the opportunity of the new life they had been given as a gift...because there was nothing in the world he wanted more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I have never worked so hard to get a chapter out in such a short window of time...I hope it's okay.  
>  You've probably noticed Anakin's moral deviation by now...trying to keep things slightly canon (slightly). When I do love scenes...I'm never satisfied with them. There's something about _reading_ a love scene verses writing one. I have to turn on the ambient music and really _really_ try hard for it to resemble anything remotely okay. 
> 
> I just want to take the time to thank you for your reviews. They keep me going, and they make me so happy. You're all so kind and supportive, it really means so much. So, thank you. I try to reply to all of them, but some days I am just too tired...and this month has already taken so much out of me. You're all so very lovely, thank you for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	5. The Hard Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *sneezes*; *watches fluff fly everywhere*  
> self-explanatory.

He’d never admit it, but he was growing stupidly fond if meditating.

Taking a deep breath and centering his thoughts, Anakin opened his eyes and observed his surroundings with a serene detachment. The Room of a Thousand Fountains held a special place in his heart, if only because it was the first place he had ever seen that held so much life and continuity. Obi-Wan had taken him to it within a few hours of landing on Coruscant, and had patiently waited for the better part of an hour and a half while his nine-year-old self stood and gaped. Every part of his immature and ignorant brain had insisted that such an abundance of water and greenery could not exist...that this was surely another trick of this ‘magic’ the Jedi called The Force. Once he’d recovered himself enough to ask questions, he’d insisted that Obi-Wan teach him the names of every single piece of flora within eyeshot...and he did. Taking Anakin’s small hand in his-at the time-much bigger ones; he’d showed him the intybus, the commelina, and the and the Rigelian iris. He’d ran his hands over soft green blades while his Master murmured that it was Alderaanian grass, raised from fragile seedlings years and years ago when the Temple was newly built. Anakin had wanted to drink from the fountains but a laughing Obi-Wan assured him that there was plenty of water on Coruscant...he need not risk getting soaked in order to get a drink. Besides, the recycled water that ran through the filter systems was nowhere near as cool or fresh as a glass of the same with an abundance of ice cubes from the cafeteria. 

Shifting slightly in his cross-legged meditative position, Anakin placed his gloved palm flat on the floor slightly behind him, adjusting his tunic and cloak carefully as he prepared to get up. Despite the fact that his normal, form-fitting uniform was still spacious enough to accommodate him without anyone raising eyebrows, he’d decided to switch to something similar to what Obi-Wan wore ahead of time. It was still black, of course. He was fairly sure if he started wearing tan the Council would throw a party, and he wasn’t _that_ addled by his hormones yet. Their flight back from Nal-Hutta was relatively brief, and Anakin had only gotten about fifteen minutes of shuteye after Obi-Wan had fucked a perfectly ruinous orgasm out of him. It seemed like mere moments before he was being shaken awake and told to get dressed in preparation to land. He’d been so tired upon their arrival at the Temple that his former Master took pity on him and told him to go back to their quarters and sleep. When he protested, Obi-Wan assured him he’d tell the Council that he was still drained from his fight with Tyran; which was at least partially true. Anakin had slept for fifteen hours straight and woken up positively ravenous. Thankfully, Obi-Wan had thought ahead about that too and had a bowl of oatmeal and fruit waiting for him. The next two weeks were comprised mostly of everyday duties and his training with Ahsoka. He quickly realized that he would soon no longer be able to safely spar with her without revealing his condition, and instead put an emphasis on solo katas. Realistically, his apprentice had been ready to move to individual exercises for at least five months, but a small nurturing part of him had balked at the thought of her being ‘out from under his wing’-so to speak-and he was thankful that he had waited. 

Standing, Anakin pulled his communicator out of his pocket and checked the time. He’d arranged to meet with Padme for lunch at 1100, and he had about twenty minutes to get to her apartment. At 1445 Palpatine had asked to meet with him to discuss something, though he didn’t say what over the comm and Anakin didn’t want to pry. Obi-Wan was stuck in a Council Session that would likely last the majority of the day, but Anakin left a message telling him where he was going in any case to keep him from worrying. Glancing wistfully back at the abundant greenery behind him, he made his way to the hangar bay and procured a small, nondescript but efficient speeder. It was about a fifteen minute trip to the Senate building, especially with the midday traffic, but he was able to land on the open veranda rather than ascend the many galleys and stairs to the turbolift. The area in question was empty but he ascertained to wait there rather than wander about the apartment uninvited. Hopping out of the speeder, Anakin lifted the security shield with a wave of his hand, knowing Padme wouldn’t mind. Settling down on one of the couches, he smirked at an issue of _Galactic Mechanisms: The Republican’s Companion_ lying abandoned on a cushion. He’d just picked it up when the door to the veranda opened and someone-he assumed Padme-came through it. It wasn’t until the person had crossed the open space separating the main living quarters from the sitting area that he looked up. A man with dark curly hair was looking at him with a suspicious expression, one hand moving to the blaster at his belt. He was very tall and traditionally dressed, generally good-looking but nowhere near what Anakin would have expected from Padme’s glowing description of him.

“You must be Palo” he commented, setting the magazine down and standing. He bowed-as was Jedi custom-and was relieved to see the hand reaching for the blaster relax. “Padme speaks very highly of you.”

“Senator Amidala neglected to mention we’d be having visitors” Palo replied, his tone not hostile but neither overly friendly. “And a Jedi visitor at that.” 

“I am Anakin Skywalker, you must forgive my intrusion but we did arrange this meeting some days in advance.” 

As he was speaking, the door leading to the apartment slid open again, this time revealing Padme. She was resplendent in a canary-yellow dress that showed off her tiny bump very modestly, and Anakin felt a pang of fleeting jealousy at her ability to be so open with her pregnancy. Her face lit up when she saw him and she crossed the room to throw her arms around him and kiss his cheek.

“It’s so good to see you Ani!” she exclaimed. Glancing at her husband, who was now looking rather thunderous, she chuckled. “Oh, Palo, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so busy this past week I forgot to tell you that Anakin would be visiting. I’ve told you about him, haven’t I? We’ve been friends since he was shorter than I am!” 

For a moment, it appeared that he might protest, but he relented with a slight chuckle at her comment.

“Shorter than you are huh? Quite a feat, Mr. Skywalker, I must say.”

“Just Anakin” he replied, shaking the hand that was proffered. “Only politicians called me _’Mr. Skywalker.’_

Palo raised an eyebrow and leaned in close.

“Devils, the lot of them” he whispered melodramatically, earning him an eyeroll from his wife. 

“You’re not into politics?” Anakin asked curiously as they sat back down, the couple taking the couch opposite him. 

“I was” was the dry reply as Palo poured tea into three separate cups. “But I didn’t agree with how things were being done...so I took a job as an accountant about a month ago.” 

“Despite the fact that I’ve _told_ him if he wants anything to change, walking away isn’t going to get him anywhere” Padme sighed, toying with a curl that was hanging over her shoulder before sitting back. “Anakin hates the system too” she added, glancing at her husband. “But he’s friends with the Chancellor so if he wanted to call in a favor he could.”

“You’re friends with Palpatine?” Palo asked, his eyes widening. 

“I’ve...confided in him, in the past” Anakin said, somewhat reluctantly. “And the Council sends me to talk to him if they need something, I think they think he’s more receptive to my opinions. But...I can’t abuse that relationship. It’s not the Jedi way.” He looked at Padme somewhat resentfully. “The Jedi don’t use their status as an excuse to manipulate the political arena. We protect the people, but we don’t speak for them.” 

“Oh, enough with the doctrinal talk” Padme huffed. “I know Anakin, I just like pulling your leg.”

The conversation shifted to Nal Hutta, and though Anakin couldn’t discuss the details of their mission, he was able to describe the planet and its people. His audience was sufficiently disgusted after about thirty minutes, and they spoke instead of their memories of Naboo. Palo’s upbringing was very much synonymous with Padme’s; being comfortable and education-oriented. He confessed that he hadn’t so much as noticed his wife’s childhood crush, being so embroiled in his studies as he’d been at the time. Still, he was glad that they’d met again at a later date, as he’d never even considered being married ‘till he caught sight of Padme at the function. Palo was calm-spoken and clear-headed, obviously inquisitive and sensitive. Anakin thought he could see what Padme loved so much about him. The two of them got into a rather serious debate regarding the management of the prison system, and Anakin was happy to sit back and watch their interactions. It was clear that they cared deeply for each other, and-moreover-respected each other to a great degree. They talked idly of the baby, and he envied their ability to be so open about it. It wasn’t until an hour later that Palo excused himself to travel to the firm where he worked, and the farewell he gave was much warmer than his greeting. He made Anakin assure him that he would visit again, and departed from the veranda via airtaxi. Once he was gone, Padme rose and came to sit beside him, taking his hands and looking perfectly conspiratorial. 

“So, now that he’s out of our hair tell me, how are you really?”

Anakin gave a lopsided smile and shook his head.

“M’fine Padme, really” he said quietly. He nodded at her midriff. “You look well.”

“Oh yes” she said happily, placing a hand on her stomach. “The doctor says everything is going fine.” Then she appeared to lose all of her patience and knocked his hand away so she could pull at his robe. “C’mon Ani, if you get to see my bump I get to see yours!” 

Anakin was not one for blushing. Not a lot embarrassed him, but this made him flush scarlet. 

“What?! No! Padme-it’s-it’s not as cute on me as it is on you!” 

“Don’t flatter me” she scoffed, then giggled. “I’m serious! I bet Obi-Wan can’t stop looking at it!”

“That’s not the point-” he insisted, then sighed. “Fine” he muttered, pushing her hands away. “Just-let me do it.” 

He was careful not to expose any skin as he let his robe fall to the side, sliding his tunic up and smoothing his undertunic. He winced as Padme let out a small squeal, put her hands on the swell of his stomach and began to act positively girlish. For her, this might be a ‘female bonding moment’; but he wanted to crawl into bed and eat a bar of chocolate by himself. He was incredibly touchy about exposing the baby to anyone...even Obi-Wan. It was just...weird. 

“You’re a bit bigger than me” she commented after she’d calmed down a bit. “Have you had a checkup?”

Anakin flushed and yanked his tunic down, looking away. In truth, Obi-Wan had been bugging him more and more about getting a doctor’s appointment. Male carriers faced a much greater risk than female carriers, and it was absolutely vital that everything checked out before the child was born. Unfortunately, getting a checkup essentially meant telling the Council, as he couldn’t have an examination like that on such a large scale without drawing their attention. It was the only thing stopping him from consenting. Taking his silence as confirmation that he had not, Padme sat up and appeared to think for a moment. 

“Wait here” she said brusquely, standing up. He watched with mild curiosity as she disappeared back into the apartment. After about fifteen minutes, she came back with a bundle of clothes and what looked like a dark, furry hat. Shaking the clothes out, he was surprised to see that they were traditional-if a bit elaborate-citizen wear. “Put these on” she instructed, tossing them to him. “And this.” 

Anakin caught the second item, and saw that it was not a fuzzy hat but a rather non-descript black wig. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Are we going to a costume party?” he asked. “Cause I have a meeting with the Chancellor in a little over an hour.” 

“We’ll be back before then” she assured him, throwing a cloak over her shoulders. “We’re taking you to the doctor.” 

“Padme, I can’t” he protested. “I don’t have fake identification.”

“I do” she said airily, whipping a card out of her pocket. “You are Esvan Hunt, an entertainer at a nightclub who happened to get a bit too familiar with one of your patrons.” 

Anakin took the card and studied it, suprised to see that the photo was rather synonymous with his own features. 

“...So I’m a slut” he deadpanned. 

“You can say he told you he was sterile” Padme commented, clearing up the tea. “But we’ve got to get going if we want to get this done before your meeting.”

Resigning himself to one of her inarguable determinations, he shrugged out of his tunic and and belt, leaving his leggings and his undertunic on. The robes were heavy but soft, and the wig was ugly but not scratchy so he didn’t complain; he’d worn far worse. By the time he was done, he could barely tell the man in the picture ID and himself apart. 

“This is… _really_ illegal Padme” he muttered as he followed her out to the speeder. 

“It’ll be fun” she said cheerfully. “Think of it as an adventure.” 

“If we get caught, we’ll both go to prison and our careers will be over.” 

“I think you’ll find that your background is very stable” Padme replied, settling into the passenger’s seat and leaning forward to input directions into the GPS. “There.” Anakin braced himself as the vessel took off at high-speed; leaving the apartment nothing but a blur in the rear-facing mirrors. “I’m taking you to my doctor” Padme continued, pulling a pocket-mirror from her dress and fixing her hair as she talked. “She’ll see you right away.” 

“And how did we meet?” Anakin asked sarcastically. “Surely a Senator takes no interest in someone as lowly as an entertainer.” 

“I was actually at The Tipsy Twi’lek about two nights ago. I’m fairly sure they’re running an underground slave market, so we can say that I’m sympathetic to your cause. Besides, Nierli won’t ask questions.” 

‘Nierli’-as it turned out-was the tallest woman Anakin had ever seen, with a voice that he was sure was what a krayt dragon would sound like...if they could speak Standard. He was sincerely shocked that his wig didn’t fly off his head out of pure terror. Blessedly, her office was very, very clean and was outfitted with state-of-the-art equipment. A pleasant but busy staff paid them no mind as Padme flirted with Nierli in a way that left Anakin absolutely gobsmacked and he shot her an incredulous look as he was dragged into an examination room by a manicured hand far bigger than his own. She winked and waved. There was no time wasted getting to know each other. Nierli bid him to undress from the waist up and when he wasn’t quick enough she did it for him. She then told him to lie back on the examination table, asking rapid-fire questions as he did so. No, he hadn’t had any stomach discomfort other than your everyday nausea, no he wasn’t having any bloody discharge, no he wasn’t experiencing any swelling of the hands or feet. When she asked if he was sexually active he said _‘what’s it to you?’_ and she chuckled, checking what he assumed was a ‘yes’ on her tablet. He tried to discern any infant-like shapes on the ultrasound but it all looked dark and blurry to him. Nierli first checked the position of his reproductive system relative to his intestines and announced that he would be perfectly fine. She then proceeded to monitor the baby and paused. 

“Mr. Hunt, you were told you are only expecting one child, am I correct?”

Anakin swallowed nervously.

“...Yeah, that’s what I was told.”

“I must endeavor to correct the information you have been given. You are carrying two children.” 

Anakin had seen a lot. ‘A lot’ ranged from watching his comrades blown into bloody bits on the battlefield, star cruisers exploding in the vacuum of space and the end of a Sith’s lightsaber cutting his arm off. He tried to tell himself he’d been manhandled by a woman who might as well be the size of a bantha, but it didn’t make him feel any better when he passed out. Strangely, he dreamed that he was throwing zucca gourds into a sarlacc pit that was slowly turning into a giant yellow flower. Someone behind him whispered that the petals could give the consumer immortality...but he argued that it was pointless to live forever...only the Force was eternal. The bodiless voice laughed, and while it was pleasant at first...it quickly turned into a grating, ugly guffaw that made his blood run cold. When he woke, it was to see Padme sitting next to the exam table reading a holomag, but she shut it quickly upon seeing he was awake and rushed to take his hands. 

“Are you alright?” she asked worriedly. Blinking fuzzily, Anakin swallowed and found his throat unpleasantly dry. “Nierli told me. No wonder you’re showing so much. She says you’re around the same time as me, fifteen weeks.” He glanced down and found that he was once again fully dressed. Sensing his unspoken question, the Senator smiled soothingly. “Don’t worry, I put your clothes back on.” 

He couldn’t think of anything particularly clever to say, so he settled for something stupid.

“Did you and her...date?”

Padme blinked for a moment, confused. Then she threw back her head and laughed. 

“Me and Nierli?!” she giggled. “Stars no! I was just softening her up, she can’t resist a pretty face...even if it’s not yours.” 

“What time is it?” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his arm distractedly. 

“Around 1730” Padme replied. “I sent a comm to the Chancellor explaining that I had kept you overlong in an urgent meeting” she reassured him, seeing his panicked look. “He was very understanding. He said for you to comm him tomorrow at 0900.” She watched as he stood, a slightly worried expression on her face. “Are you alright? I know it must be a lot to take in...I can’t imagine knowing that I was carrying twins.”

Anakin made a face. 

“I’m fine, but I’ve got to get back to the Temple...Obi-Wan…” he trailed off, but she seemed to understand. 

Hesitating, she spoke again.

“Nierli...she offered to...get rid of them...but I just knew you wouldn’t do that.”

Anakin’s head snapped up at her comment, and the protectiveness that surged through him was astonishing.

“No” he snarled, and Padme stepped back at the fierceness in his voice. “No” he repeated, gentling his tone somewhat. “I would _never_ do that.

Their ride back to her apartment was quiet but companionable. Padme chatted idly of errant things, to keep his mind off the news he was trying to digest he suspected. Upon landing, he hurried in to change into his robes and discard the ugly wig. He’d never been so glad to be rid of a false identity. In truth, he wasn’t as shocked as he supposed he should be. He’d been picking up something...odd about the Force Signature surrounding what he’d thought was one infant...but now it made sense. He was carrying two children, both of which had unique and vastly differing Signatures. Smoothing down his robe, he took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. A part of him wanted to break something priceless and valuable in the hopes that he might feel better, but he restrained himself. Instead, he pulled out his pocket-comm to see that he had ten missed calls from Obi-Wan. Grimacing, Anakin waved the device at Padme, who nodded understandingly and hugged him goodbye before walking him out to his speeder. It was only on the way back to the Temple that he allowed himself to break down somewhat. 

Nobody could hear him yelling over the sound of the turbos anyway.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Obi-Wan was used to Anakin being horrendously late.

Checking his communicator for what felt like the thousandth time, the Jedi Master threw the holobook he’d been trying and failing to distract himself with on the sofa and walked to the window. When he was a teenager, Anakin liked to go out and watch the races on the other side of Coruscant. He didn’t participate, and he didn’t bet, but it still wasn’t considered a ‘Jedi-like’ activity and he’d been forced to reprimand him for it. Then, when he was seventeen Anakin went missing for two days and turned up halfway across the planet on top of a skyscraper. Obi-Wan to this day couldn’t for the life of him figure out how he’d gotten there, but he’d been so angry that he was on his best behavior for the better part of five months. When he was twenty, shortly after they’d gotten together, Anakin had wandered off on a snowy planet and gotten lost in a blizzard. It was by sheer luck and-if you asked Anakin-brilliance that they found his giant city of snow people before he froze to death. That was-of course-only Anakin’s half of the story. By the time they found him he was hypothermic and didn’t exactly want to leave, insisting that he had married the city’s ‘Snow Queen’ and that they had already sired five children that he couldn’t possibly leave to starve. Obi-Wan had had to knock him out to get him away and he liked to bring it up on occasion, especially when Anakin was being snarky. This was different. Anakin was pregnant and running about doing whatever he damn well pleased. What if he got caught? What if he was hurt? 

He huffed and glanced at the meditation mat behind him. Obi-Wan hadn’t failed to notice his former apprentice’s sudden interest in being one with the Force. The first time he’d really paid attention to it was two days after their return from Nal-Hutta. Anakin had sunk into a meditative trance and hadn’t come out for two hours. By the time he recollected himself enough to look around, Obi-Wan had barely managed to cover his delighted grin. This-of course-irritated Anakin to no end, and he’d made a conscious effort not to meditate in his presence anymore. Still, if he concentrated hard enough, he could always feel when his partner was sneaking in a quick session. Obi-Wan couldn’t blame him, really. Anakin’s body was housing a child who was forming a Signature all its own, and he liked to be near it...to observe it. It was his own personal way of ensuring that the baby was well and protected, and he found it positively endearing. As someone who had been trying to get Anakin to acknowledge the benefits of meditation for the better part of their time together, he also considered it a great triumph but he didn’t dare mention it aloud. As he pondered the subtle changes that had occurred over the last few weeks, the door to their quarters slid open and he recognized Anakin’s footfall immediately. Turning, Obi-Wan felt some of his anger wane as he saw how exhausted the young man looked. Anakin’s eyes were shadowed and heavy, his brow a mask of worried furrows. 

“Where have you been?” he demanded, striding over to stand in front of him. “I-”

A slender finger over his lips brought him up short, and he stared at Anakin in furious incredulity as the Jedi Knight shook his head in a plea for him not to speak. 

“First” his lover said tiredly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stay out so late, it was completely unintentional.” Lowering his hand Obi-Wan stiffened as he was wrapped in familiar arms, but relented after a moment and gently stroked Anakin’s hair as the younger man rested his head on his shoulder. “I went to see Padme like I said I would. I met her husband, Palo...he’s a nice guy. He left after a while, and Padme figured out that I hadn’t been to see a doctor, so she made me go to see one.”

Obi-Wan pulled back incredulously.

“Surely you didn’t-”

“-I had a disguise, and a fake I.D.” Anakin chuckled and shook his head. “All Padme’s idea, I _swear._ So...we got there, and the doctor took me back and examined me…” he hesitated and trailed off. 

“Is everything alright?!” Obi-Wan demanded. “Anakin, is our child going to be alright?!”

Slowly, after a few heartstopping moments, the younger man nodded. 

“Yea...everything checked out” he said shakily. “Our _children_ are going to be fine.”

Obi-Wan blinked. 

“I….I don’t…”

Anakin huffed in a way that was not entirely unlike his former Master. 

“Twins, Master. We’re having twins.” He rolled his eyes. “Seems like you weren’t satisfied with knocking me up plain and simple. You had to knock me up with two kids at once.” 

Casting around for anything useful to say, the older man decided to continue on his line of questioning.

“So...that’s why you’re so horrendously late?”

This time, Anakin flushed.

“Uh, no. I’m late because I passed out.”

Obi-Wan frowned.

“Why?”

There was a brief stretch of silence, and when his former padawan spoke again, he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“When the doctor told me that I was...pregnant with twins I…” he trailed off and gestured irritably.

The atmosphere of stunned shock broke at Anakin’s declaration. Obi-Wan began to chuckle helplessly, despite the indignance he could feel rolling of the other man. 

“So, let me get this straight” he chortled. “ _You_ , Anakin Skywalker, fainted upon hearing that you were carrying twins.” 

Anakin scowled and crossed his arms.

“I’m called the _’Hero with No Fear’_ not the _’Dad with No Fear’_ ” he muttered. 

At this, Obi-Wan lost his composure in its entirety and it was several minutes before he regained it. By that time, Anakin looked like he either wanted to cry or throw something; and he hastened to rectify the situation before it got out of control. Cradling Anakin’s cheek, Obi-Wan kissed him gently. 

“Two children don’t change how I feel about you” he said soothingly. “If anything, it’s twice the happiness wrapped up into one.”

Anakin scowled. 

“So...BOGO?” 

“What?!-No Anakin _no_ ” Obi-Wan insisted, his lip twitching furiously. After a few moments, he sobered. “I mean that you could have decided to get rid of them. Right there, right then. You had a fake name, a disguise. You had a way out, and you didn’t take it.” 

“Do you really think I’d do that?” was the whispered reply. Scarred but slender fingers traced his lips. “Obi-Wan...it never even crossed my mind.” 

“I know” he murmured, raising his other hand so that his palms framed Anakin’s face. “And that is why I love you. You chose the hard road...even though you didn’t have to...and you have before. There are Jedi who would have jumped at the chance that you had, and you didn’t. I respect you for it, and I love you more for it. Someday, our children will know about the choice you made….

...and they will love you for it too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very fluffy chapter.


	6. Between A Dream And A Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of text in this one. Solely Anakin's POV so sorry for those of you who liked Obi-Wan's.

_**PAIN** _

_It was the first thing he was aware of...the first thing he acknowledged. He’d been in battle, suffered the searing heat of blaster fire and the deathly cold of limitless space. Countless scars covered his body...some faded, some fresh...all reminders of this agony or that torture. Marks were memories; wounds were but the canvas for their beginnings. This pain was different. It was deep, primal and throbbing. His face felt too hot and his limbs were too cold. The muscles in his abdomen might as well have been burning; tight and immutable as they were.  
A fine sheen of sweat was on his upper lip and he could taste salt against his tongue as he struggled to remain composed. Beneath him, the firm mattress of the bio bed brought him no comfort. His legs were up in stirrups and spread wide, the throbbing at his core seemed to come from between them. When he placed a hand betwixt the area and lifted it back up, blood glistened before his eyes; dark, dripping and thick. Something -a med droid, his mind whispered-chastised him, told him to stay still and not fidget. No one moved to clean his hand and it smeared across his pale hospital gown...like scarlet tire tracks in freshly fallen snow. _

_Then the pain came again, and he heard the loud, guttural groan that came from him as if from a distance, the urgent need to push a red, dark and pulsing command that made his mind recoil in shock and in fear. Something was horribly wrong. Where was Obi-Wan?? He couldn’t **feel** him anywhere! It was as if he no longer existed...not in this room, not on Coruscant... And the fear he felt at his realization was a scream of agony across his synapses; blazing like the hissing weal of a brand seared onto his soul. Vaguely, he felt his stomach heave and someone- **who??** -held a basin so he could vomit. There were others around him but he couldn’t see them, it was like they were phantoms flitting across his vision; present but impossible to catch. He gasped as he realized he couldn't feel the twins...that their Signatures were coming from beyond a shrouded veil...like a whisper across a thousand horizons. He barely recognized the sobbing, piercing cry that left his lips as his own...._

_More pain… **more pain** and that roiling, sickening urge to push...to expel. The smell of blood was cloying, more pungent than the aftermath of any battlefield he had ever been on. Med droids-the med droids wouldn't fucking **SHUT UP** -telling him to lie still and calm down when they couldn't possibly understand, couldn’t fathom that his mate had abandoned him here, left him to give birth to their children alone. And the tears rolling down his cheeks were those of both anger, fear, pain, and desolation. How could a mess of circuitry and wires possibly know what he was feeling?! They’d never loved or lost or carried a child for nine months. Nine months of loving words, of reassurances and endearments, promises and coddling and then, suddenly… **nothing.**_

_But he couldn’t think about that...couldn't concentrate on his loss because he was arching off the bed and the droids were telling him to bear down. Hard…hot...punishing and **out** and oh stars why wasn't he breathing?! Whisked away as he was in mechanical arms and even from so far away he could see those tiny feet were a greyish-blue. Another rush of pain and it was **still silent** and there was nothing **nothing** he could do. The droids were sorry, they were so **stars-damned fucking sorry** but his scream had become a howl and he wanted to **die**. Somewhere, someone was shouting ‘Anakin!!!’ but he didn't care...they were dead and Obi-Wan was gone and-_

“Anakin! _Anakin!!!_ ”

It was like someone dousing him with cold water. Obi-Wan’s Force Signature yanked him out of the realms of sleep like the lash of an icy whip. There was a roar behind his ears, like an explosion too close to avoid and he didn’t hear himself gasp as he shot up into a sitting position, chest heaving as he acknowledged that he was drenched in sweat. Obi-Wan’s hands were cradling his face, those familiar eyes filled with worry and concern as he mouthed words Anakin couldn't hear. He was shaking - he realized - shaking like a man come out of shell-shock. His gloved hand immediately shot down to cradle his middle, and he sagged with assuagement as he felt the warm protrusion of gravid skin beneath his fingertips. The babies’ Signatures were strong and virulent under his hand and he couldn’t help the hitch of breath that left his lips out of sheer, terrified relief. Obi-Wan’s scent- _his essence_ \- was suddenly there again and he leaned into it, burying his face in the crook of his neck and taking deep, gulping breaths. A warm, tentative hand came up to rub his back in slow, soothing circles. Soft, slightly scratchy kisses gently peppered his cheek and he was shaking again, though out of exhaustion now more than fear.

“-kay, it’s okay Anakin…”

Gradually, Obi-Wan’s voice broke through the miasmic haze of his consciousness. Warm and soothing with its wonderful Coruscanti accent...he drank up every clipped syllable, every stoic yet comforting vowel. Slightly rough with sleep, it was the voice he had turned to for reassurance and serenity for over a decade, accepting it was practically instinctual. He was aware of the slightly rough fabric of Obi-Wan’s sleeping tunic against his flushed skin...the familiar touch of his legs through the loose sleeping pants Anakin wore. A hand eventually joined his against the curve of his stomach, rubbing gently against the slightly taut skin in a way that was ridiculously soothing. And then...just when he was sure he had centered himself to an acceptable degree...a gentle flutter came in response to Obi-Wan’s movements. It was small, barely discernable if you weren't paying attention. Anakin let out a soft huff of surprise and both of them stilled utterly. The ‘flutter’ came again and his breath hitched dangerously, his eyes feeling suddenly moist. Obi-Wan chuckled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to Anakin’s brow.

“Seems I'm not the only one worried about you” he murmured. 

Anakin gave a weak, desperate sort of laugh in return.

“Figures one of them would be a worrywort like you” he muttered shakily.

“Are you alright?” the older man continued.

He took a deep breath and lifted a hand to smooth back an errant strand of hair.

“...Yeah…” he said, somewhat unsteadily. Another barrage of kicks, and they both laughed softly. “Fine, fine. I could be better. But I’ll be alright.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, his face pensive in the mostly-dark atmosphere of the room. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Anakin grimaced and gently tugged his former Master down onto the mattress so they could lie on their sides facing each other.

“Not now” he muttered. “S’too close.” He burrowed closer, tucking his head under Obi-Wan’s chin and closing his eyes. A slightly wistful smile ghosted over his lips as a gentle arm wrapped itself around his waist. “I love you..”

“I love you too, dear one.”

He could tell Obi-Wan was reluctant to let him sleep again, and in truth, he really had no intention of doing so. Instead, he lay awake and stared into the darkness listening to his former Master’s breathing settle as his mind ran over the dream ‘till he fair wanted to scream. It had all been so vivid...so _real_....the blood...the sensation of helplessness. Jedi were known to have prophetic dreams. It wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence, but it was no rare thing either. Anakin didn’t know what separated Foresight and imagination; Obi-Wan wasn’t gifted with prophecy, so he was unable to pass any advice down while he was a padawan. Yoda was possibly best known for his stringent attention to futuristic events, but he believed in letting the Force decide...rather than taking matters into his own hands. One of the twins flailed again and Anakin grunted slightly in surprise. Beside him, Obi-Wan gave a light snore and his eyebrow twitched. Letting a finger run over wiry strands of scarlet beard, he vowed that whatever means he had to take to keep his family safe, he would do without hesitation. The Galaxy was a rough, unforgiving place...he of all people knew that far better than most. All his energy would go into finding this hidden Sith...before he could get another apprentice to replace Dooku...before he could gain a strong foothold in this blasted war. Too much of their time and effort was going into driving back the Separatists when the real problem was closer at hand, or so he sensed. There was unrest in the Republic; disquiet caused by more than warfare and loss. Anakin had every intention of digging to the root of it. He could only hope that once he was there, he'd at least have enough room to maneuver them safely back out again.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

“My, my...Young Master Skywalker, it is good to see you again.”

Anakin smiled at the warm, aged face of the Chancellor as he clasped his shoulder. He always had looked forward to their meetings, especially now, as they were a brief reprieve from the roiling mental quandary he often found himself in. Palpatine had been a good friend and advisor to him. He hadn’t had to, certainly not. When they'd first met Anakin had been an arrogant, swaggering apprentice aching to be placed through the Trials so he could become a Knight. Palpatine was a prominent political figure even then, managing the affairs of Naboo and catering to whatever regime the Republic saw fit. Most men of his caliber would have had no time for Anakin, but Palpatine made time. It seemed like whenever he was exhausted or worried, the Chancellor was there with wise and soothing words. If Anakin couldn’t make sense of a situation, Palpatine could, and he did it with patience and logic that was truly astounding. There were whispers that he had risen to his status too swiftly...that the Senate's vote of no confidence was ill considered and hasty; but Anakin couldn't help but think otherwise. Not when it was someone he so deeply respected and admired. 

“You wished to speak with me, Chancellor?” he replied curiously.

The old man lowered his hand and tucked both arms behind his back.

“Yes” he said, with his usual weighed tone. “Let us walk a bit, it helps me to settle my thoughts.”

“Of course” Anakin acceded, falling into step behind him as they began to circle the office. 

“The Jedi Council does not trust me” Palpatine continued, with the air of someone deeply grieved. “And why should they? This-” he waved idly at the space around them. “-It all belonged to someone else not long ago. Someone they were accustomed to, with principles they were familiar with. I am not the same as your last Chancellor...they're uncomfortable and disgruntled.”

“That’s not true” Anakin said quickly. “The Jedi aren't used to dealing with politics like they’ve had to over the course of this Sith-be-damned war. The Republic demands a presence from us we rarely offer. They’ll warm up once all the fighting is over.”

“And you see, my dear Anakin...that's the thing” Palpatine sighed, turning to face him. “As Chancellor, I _am_ the Republic...at least the face of it in any case. The Council doubts my ability to handle the protection of our Galaxy, for whatever the reason.” He made a ‘tsking’ sound and swept away to gaze out the window. “You know what it's like to have the Jedi question you, don't you?”Anakin swallowed and tried to shove down the part of him that related wholeheartedly to the Chancellor’s words. Instead he lowered his head to pick at a nonexistent spot on his robes. “...You feel it too” Palpatine continued, his voice barely more than a whisper. “...That _doubt_...that mistrust. They fear your power, just like they fear my authority. Why...that must be the reason they haven’t let you on the Council.”

“It’s not my place to say” Anakin replied uncomfortably. “Besides, I've not been a Jedi Knight that long...people wait years to become part of the Council.”

“But you’ve nearly abolished the Separatists and killed a Sith!” Palpatine protested. “You’re a war general and a hero!”

“The Separatists have not faced me alone during our time fighting them” the Jedi Knight said tiredly. “Many, many Jedi have sacrificed themselves for the Republic during times of war.” He exhaled shakily. “...And I shouldn't have killed Count Dooku. I lost control. It was a grave error and a severe infraction of the Code.” 

Palpatine was looking at him with what could only be described as incredulity. 

“The Anakin Skywalker I knew four months ago would never have said such a thing” he said bitterly. “Count Dooku was a plague on the Galaxy, his death was nothing more than an imposition.”

As if on cue, one of the twins rolled happily, and Anakin found himself half-smiling.

“I like to think I'm a little wiser” he said mildly. “Four months have certainly been enough to change me, enormously…-I can't say why-” he added when the Chancellor opened his mouth to speak. “You’re not a Jedi” he said patiently. “And I understand that Count Dooku’s death wasn’t a loss to you, but it was to me. I sacrificed my values because I was angry, Jedi are taught from the moment they can heed an instructor to not let their anger overcome them. I failed one of the Basic Principles....there’s no excuse for it-” 

“-I want you to monitor the Council for me” Palpatine said, abruptly cutting him off and looking like his words had made him nauseous.

Anakin was stunned. 

“...I'm sorry Chancellor but-”

“-I've already put in the order. You will monitor the Council for me, and report their misgivings of how I run this office back to me.” 

“The Jedi are not spies” Anakin said coldly. 

Palpatine observed him for for a moment, and there was a steel behind his eyes that Anakin had never seen before and didn't entirely like. 

“Nevertheless...you will do as I say. If you don't want your visions to come true, you’ll do it.” 

He sucked in a deep breath as alarm flooded his body.

“...How do you know about my visions?” he asked in a low voice.

The Chancellor tilted his head.

“It would be a shame if everything you care for was suddenly ripped from you” he said smoothly. “I can help you stop it, but you must do me this small courtesy first.” A side door opened on the opposite side of the room and Palpatine moved towards it without a backward glance. “This concludes our meeting, Master Skywalker. ….have a wonderful afternoon.”

As the door hissed shut behind him, Anakin stood for a moment longer, conflicted. The Chancellor had, in one part, threatened him...and yet in another breath he had offered to help him. Frowning, the Jedi Knight turned and began to walk to the main exit, sidestepping a set of chairs and nodding at the guard. How much could Palpatine know about his dreams? What benefit could he possibly gain from having a mole in the Council? More importantly, did Anakin _want_ to be that mole? Could he-in good conscience - ferry Jedi secrets to a member of government who had no real knowledge of the sanctity of the Order? Moreover, if the Council refused to acquiesce to Palpatine’s demand that Anakin be a formal member, did he want to be in the middle of the political brawl that would follow? Anakin pressed the button for the lift and stood back, folding his arms. If Obi-Wan were there he would caution Anakin and tell him to take a back seat. Knights rarely played any kind of part in the political arena, save for the occasional escort or-as in Anakin’s case-if they were close with members of the Senate. He briefly considered seeking Padme’s advice, but he was loathe to bring her into a situation that didn’t directly impact her field of office. She had a lot on her plate already, this was a headache he couldn’t bring upon himself to impart upon her. Besides, anything he could find out about preventing his dream from coming true was worth the sacrifice of a little moral. 

After calibrating his speeder, Anakin made a hasty path back to the Temple, all the while wondering when the Chancellor intended to make his supposed ‘Order’ to the Council. He could feel Obi-Wan’s Signature faintly through the Force, but it was preoccupied and busy...sitting in on another Session no doubt. Their twins were similarly engaged. Both children seemed to spend a fair amount of time ‘conversing’ with each other through the Force, he had found. They seemed to take a far greater comfort in each other than anyone else around them and he couldn’t really fault them for it. Anakin found that if he ‘listened in’ on the sly he could discern which one was ‘speaking.’ He'd known right off the bat that one of them was a bossy jerk, and he supposed he really only had himself to look to for that particular trait. The occasional irritated kick when he moved too much didn't even come close to the snarky grumbling he picked up on if the other twin got too cozy and crowded their limited space. In stark contrast, the other half of the duo was calm and serene...with beautiful ocean-colored Force threads that were shockingly similar to Obi-Wan. When he was ‘talking’, Anakin couldn’t help but grin and roll his eyes, practically envisioning the tiny replica of his former Master holding desperately to that thin but strong thread of patience that he alone seemed to have when it came to Skywalkers. Nothing about it was coherent language of course...more like soft waves of emotion lapping at the edge of his perception...the closest he could come to describing it would be a song made out of whispering, half-formed words. Occasionally, one of them would mimic what he supposed was the resonant vibration of sounds outside of their tiny dark world. He would catch the jagged but gaudy lightning bolt of when he said _kriff_ rather too often and other times he would get a purplish, snaggly transmission of giant ‘O’s that he immediately recognized as Obi-Wan’s snoring. It was a bit strange to have two extremely tiny people carrying on inside him, to be sure. But at the same time, it was an immense joy and source of happiness.

A yellow arc of light streaked across his psyche as he stepped on to the Temple landing platform. It was one specifically associated with _’home’_ and _’happy!’_ and he tried to brush the niggling reminder that this might not be their home for much longer aside. Another, softer Thread threw out an aquamarine ball of light accompanied by the clipped but muted murmurs of Obi-Wan’s voice, and he chuckled quietly. 

“He's busy right now” he murmured quietly, smoothing a surreptitious hand over his bump before adjusting his cloak to cover himself. “We’ll see him soon.”

Almost immediately upon entering the Temple he ran into Ahsoka, who dragged him off so he could watch her spar with some of the more advanced Padawans. Taking a seat on a meditation mat at the back of the room and watching her trade friendly banter with her opponent, he couldn’t help but feel immensely proud. He had never really connected with any of his peers during his training. By the age of nine, he was fairly set in his outspoken and opinionated ways, and it drove his peers away from him. He'd never been prone to be particularly kind or understanding, bent as he was on proving himself capable of being a Jedi despite his late initiation. Obi-Wan had often encouraged him to take the high road and try to intermingle...but he couldn’t relate. He had friends, yes. But it was a loosely defined portrait of the concept of a ‘friend.’ His fellow padawans looked to him if they felt like causing mischief or sneaking out, mostly because he could easily take the fall for getting caught without feeling slighted or insulted. 

Ahsoka was perfectly at ease with her fellow trainees; something that had always gave him a great deal of relief. He had too many emotional ties to truly invest himself in the intimate Master-Padawan ties that Obi-Wan had incorporated into his training of him. Anakin loved Ahsoka on the level of that of a caretaker and instructor...but he couldn’t bring himself to develop the intimate, almost parental bond with her that he'd seen between him and Obi-Wan. A part of it was preservation...for Ahsoka. He didn’t want her getting so attached to him she couldn't let him go, and that could become a reality at any given time. Another part of him acknowledged the dangers of his tendency to posses. He could ‘nature’ her, but he couldn’t ‘nurture’ her...not without the risk of wanting to keep her. There were no romantic feelings involved in his avoidance, simply the fact that he could not in good conscience press his tendencies towards possession onto someone who could potentially become a very great Jedi. He was perfectly content to let her fellow trainees nurture her in his stead. They would all become magnificent fighters...and an even more magnificent team. 

“Awe, c’mon Skyguy! Were you even watching that last round??”

Anakin smirked and raised an eyebrow at his pouting padawan. Ahsoka stomped her foot and rolled her eyes.

“By the end of the first I knew you were gonna win, Snips” he commented sagely. He tilted his head. “You gotta stop leaving your left side open though. I know Daviis isn't clever enough to figure out that particular weakness, but a fully trained adversary won't miss it.”

“Hells Master, and here I was expecting a compliment” she muttered, dropping to the mat beside him with a huff.

“Language, padawan” he said sternly. He grinned as she shot him a sideways glance. “You did well, Snips. I'm proud of you.” His chronometer beeped and he sighed. “That’s me. Gotta go get dinner for the old man.”

“Still ferrying him his meals even though he's not your Master anymore?” Ahsoka teased. 

Anakin smiled, a little wearily.

“Obi-Wan will always be my Master” he replied, hastening to get up. “Whether I like it or not.”

He was about halfway off the floor when his body reminded him that his center of gravity was just the slightest bit different now. Wavering for a moment, he grimaced as Ahsoka immediately hastened to steady him, one hand grasping his elbow while the other wrapped around his waist. They wobbled precariously for a moment before Master and Padawan managed to settle on their feet.

“Careful Master” Ahsoka cautioned playfully. “You seem to be getting old there.” She let him go and began to walk away. “And fat!” she threw over her shoulder. 

Anakin groaned and covered his eyes with one hand, turning and making for the the cafeteria without a reply. Obi-Wan’s Force Signature brushed curiously against his for a moment, sensing his irritation, but he brushed it to the side. He supposed he was going to get comments like that every once in awhile, but he was still vain enough to let them bother him. Nothing about his physique had really changed in all honesty. He made an effort to train stringently despite his limitations, and he walked or ran perhaps six to seven miles a day. The only thing different about him was the fact that his stomach looked like he'd swallowed a small melon and decided not to digest it, but that was neither here nor there. Anakin brushed an idle hand through his hair and nodded at Master Voss, who had emerged from the cafeteria carrying a plate of what looked like yellow tomatoes. He didn’t stop to see if his greeting was returned, preferring to step in line and order two take outs of boiled crawlfish and assorted steamed vegetables. The fare at the Temple was nutritional but never very exciting. Anakin preferred fruit above just about anything but it was considered an indulgence and not readily available. When he was younger, he'd once snuck four dozen hubba fruit into the Temple and stuffed them under his mattress. He'd come home after training to find that Obi-Wan had baked about twenty pies and given them out to various members of the Order...making himself wildly popular. When Anakin asked where his was he'd been sternly informed that if he wished to bring sweets into the Temple he'd have to learn to share them, and that next time he was to not hide them but give them away. Anakin mumbled an apology as he nearly ran over a crechemaster toting a gaggle of Younglings who squeaked their various greetings of _’hello Knight Skywalker’_ s before disappearing around a corner. He smiled fondly, waving in an absentminded way as he stepped into a lift and pressed the necessary commands. Granted, it wouldn’t do him any favors if the Council should suddenly decide that steak and burgers were the ideal food of the day. As a child, he’d grown up drinking blue milk and chewing dewback jerky...sometimes the occasional stew if his mother could find enough ingredients to throw together. Any bread they ate was flat and grainy, tossed on a hot rock and left to rise in the blistering sun. Fried edibles made him sicker than a dog and greasy foods left him tired and irritable. Obi-Wan’s stomach could handle less organic fare but Anakin steered clear of it when he could. 

Obi-Wan hadn't returned by the time he reached their quarters, so Anakin set the table and arranged the dishes before going to take a shower. Warm water to bathe in was a luxury he’d never quite gotten used to. Every time he used the ‘fresher he was reminded of all the slaves on Tatooine that had never had the privilege of even seeing a shower, let alone using one. As a padawan he had a tendency to drink soapy bath water; a situation that was unpleasant for both him and his Master in the aftermath. Toweling himself dry, Anakin slid on a pair of briefs, some loose sleeping pants and his undertunic before stepping out of the ‘fresher. At the same time, the door to their quarters slid open, revealing a harried-looking Obi-Wan, closely followed by a chattering Quinlan. Anakin lunged for his tunic, barely pulling it over his head before the dark-complected Master drew him into the conversation. He was still carrying those blasted tomato things, and to his chagrin, he set them down at the table he’d prepared like he intended to stay for dinner. It was annoying, he reflected, sitting down and shaking his head in order to dry it a bit more; Quinlan had an irritating habit of dogging his former Master’s footsteps. If he wasn’t so committed to the Order, Anakin was sure he would have made a move on Obi-Wan already, but decorum held him back. Just the way he looked at the older Jedi made him want to throw something heavy-like a bantha-at his face...but he was sure that it would be frowned upon. Regardless, Obi-Wan had never shown any interest in the Kiffarian Master, so he wasn’t going to cause a scene just for the sake of his vanity. It turned out that the Council meeting had been as long and tedious as Anakin suspected. Obi-Wan was usually very gracious towards company, but his responses to Quinlan’s insistent yammering were short, tired, and unusually clipped. He sent a weary thank you for the food through their Force Bond, and Anakin contented himself with that for the moment. They got to talking about the Senate, something that Anakin could lend his own opinion in...and they entertained for the better part of an hour. It wasn’t that he didn’t like guests Anakin reflected, chewing on a rather uninteresting mushroom, it was the fact that he hadn’t seen Obi-Wan all day and he had missed him an embarrassing amount. He wanted to ask him his opinion of Palpatine’s demand to tell him how much the children had asked for him during the day. The conversation wore on until about 2200. Anakin was fairly dozing in his seat while Quinlan detailed an apparently masterful plan for a new generation of kata when Obi-Wan caught his eye and smiled ruefully.

“Love, could you get me some caf if you will?”

Anakin nodded automatically out of habit and rose to shuffle over to the door, checking their meager beverage stash and grimacing. 

“I’ll have to run over to the lounge” he commented, drawing his cloak more firmly about his shoulders. “I shouldn’t be long.” 

It wasn’t until the door shut behind him that he heard Quinlan speak up again, his tone slightly muffled by the barrier between them. 

“...You still call him love?”

There was a pause and Anakin winced, imagining Obi-Wan scrambling to pick up the pieces of his grievous slip of the tongue.

“I do love him” was the calm and serene reply. “Surely you cannot say that you don’t love your former padawan.”

“Of course I do” was the hesitant response. “But...I stopped giving Aayla pet names when she was fifteen. They embarassed her. Anakin isn’t a child anymore, you know.” There was a shuffle of cloth. “Obi-Wan...you know the dangers of getting attached.”

Anakin felt his former Master’s irritation rip their way across their Bond; still serene, but at the same time distant and unfamiliar. 

“Thank you, Quinlan. But I assure you that I am perfectly capable of handling my emotions.”

“You of all people should know how dangerous Anakin is” was the low response, and the man in question stiffened. “...What Yoda said about him in the meeting today-”

“-Was utter, driveling rubbish” Obi-Wan snapped, finally losing his patience. “Master Yoda hasn’t spent more than twenty minutes of serious conversation with Anakin, and you haven’t either. I’ll hold my tongue while I’m sitting on the Council and letting you all drive my apprentice’s reputation to the ground, but I won’t stand for it in my private quarters. You assume too much and you know far too little. I believe in Anakin. My Master believed in him and I’m not going to dishonor his memory by giving up on what he wanted.” There was a scrape of chairs and Anakin assumed that one of them must have risen. “I’ll ask you one thing, Master Voss. Where would we be if Anakin hadn’t been on the ship when we went to save the Chancellor? Where would we be if Anakin at the age of _nine_ hadn’t flown a starfighter straight into a separatist melee and destroyed their droid consoles? Where would _I_ be if Anakin hadn’t flown to Geonosis with Padme and rescued me?” 

“The battle of Geonosis would have ended far better if Anakin hadn’t-”

“-I’d be _dead_ ” Quinlan. “I was facing off against a Nexu, a Reek, and an Acklay tied to a Sith-be-damned _pole_. They threw Anakin and Padme in there as entertainment...and it was their fatal error. Now please, get out.” 

Anakin hastily made a swift exit to the lounge and spent a little time searching about for the so-coveted instant caf before moseying back to their apartment. In truth, he was practically glowing. Obi-Wan _never_ spoke so highly of him in his presence, but he’d known that he was prone to rise to his defence when he wasn’t there to defend himself. He was suddenly accosted with an almost uncontrollable desire to run out and buy his Master as many gifts as his speeder could carry. Obi-Wan was clearing the table when he returned, but he stopped and accepted the kiss Anakin offered before bending to wipe down their humble table with a washrag. 

“It’s instant caf in the lounge, unfortunately” he commented, setting the package down on the table. 

“Oh, forget that rubbish” the older man grumbled. “I was hoping Quinlan would get the hint that I was tired and offer to leave.” 

“It seems that he has” Anakin commented. “Unless you’ve hidden him somewhere.” 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear that conversation” Obi-Wan scoffed, pulling his cloak off and hanging it up. “It’s terribly rude to eavesdrop, you know.”

“I couldn’t help it” Anakin said cheerfully, echoing his former Master’s actions. “Not when you were speaking of me in such a heart-stopping way.” Crossing the gap between them he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and bumped their noses together. “You know, I'd have been a helluva lot more tolerable as a padawan if you’d given me compliments like that.” 

“They weren’t compliments” was the grumbled response. “I was just stating facts.” Despite the firmness in his voice, his right arm reciprocated his affection, rising to card through Anakin’s hair. A fond smile played across his lips and the younger man raised an eyebrow in silent question to his wordless gesture. Obi-Wan shook his head and chuckled. “I just...when I first came in the room with Quinlan, I saw you standing there doing nothing in particular as you’re prone to do.” He plucked at Anakin’s undertunic. “This doesn’t hide much anymore” he said ruefully. “I couldn’t help but think how...beautiful you were.” 

“I prefer _’rugged’_ or _’handsome’_ ” Anakin mumbled, lowering his head so he could mouth gently at the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. “But since you’re equally adorable I’ll let it slide.”

“I am not adorable” Obi-Wan huffed. “Where in the galaxy have you ever gotten the idea that I’m adorable?!” 

Stepping back, Anakin studied his Master’s face for a moment, a smile playing about his lips.

“I think it’s the beard” he said pensively, stroking the aforementioned wealth of red hair. “And your accent, your scratchy robes, and your ability to talk someone out of murder just by batting your eyelashes- _mmphf!_ ”

He was cut off by Obi-Wan’s mouth, warm and hot against his; a tongue gently flicking against his bottom lip ‘till he accepted it into his mouth and sucked arduously. The shudder that snapped up his spine was entirely involuntary, and abruptly _yes_ he wanted this...had wanted this practically all day long. He was rock-hard and an abundance of slick was already gathering between his thighs as he rutted up against Obi-Wan and was rewarded with a low moan. When they broke the kiss to rest their foreheads against each other, he chuckled breathlessly. 

“...And now” Obi-Wan murmured, sucking a path down his jaw to mouth the lobe of his ear. “Do you still think I’m so adorable?”

_“Mmmm...yess”_ he hissed, tilting his head back and baring his neck. “Absolutely adorable” he muttered, sliding his hands into those damnable leggings so he could squeeze his former Master’s backside. “Adorable...and _sexy.”_

It was a rush to see who could get the the clothes off of the other first. Anakin loved every inch of Obi-Wan’s body. From the dusting of freckles across his upper back and shoulders to the arches of his feet; pale like the crest of the moons over Coruscant. He loved his strong but graceful hands; how they seemed to whisper an echo of music against his skin...the pads of each finger a vibrating hum of acknowledgement and desire. And those eyes were the stormy grey of steel and thunder...like a blazing nebula washed of color..but so much _more_. The soft fabric of the sleeping couch against his back was just another texture with which to acquaint himself, and he arched languidly as Obi-Wan settled between his legs; finger and thumb coming up to nudge his knee so his lips could nip gently at his thigh. Anakin’s eyelids fluttered as a gentle finger stroked along his aching need, and at this point the older man paused and gazed up, awaiting his permission. Anakin smirked and let his legs fall open. 

“You gonna fuck me or what?” he slurred. 

“So crass” was the muttered response. 

And then the world went white as wet, tight heat closed around him. Tomorrow, they could talk about more serious things. Here, in this moment...there was only space for the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I'm not sure why I did another chapter of this rather than UTFM, but I was feeling inspired. I'm sure some of you were expecting a full love scene at the end of this...but I wasn't feeling it. I'd actually built up this entire chapter with the intent of some conclusive action, but then it was fine where I left it.


	7. A Husk Of His Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extremely long chapter

Obi-Wan had never been at odds with the Council before. 

Watching as his fellow Masters railed at Anakin over Palpatine’s demands, he supposed there was a time for everything. Anakin looked utterly desperate, his hands gesturing helplessly as he tried and failed to explain that he was no more than a messenger; that the Chancellor’s wishes were not synonymous with his own and that he wanted nothing more than to separate himself from the whole affair. Obi-Wan could sense his exasperation through their Bond, along with his discomfort at having been made to stand so long...deflecting accusatory suppositions and resentful statements. Just into his sixth month, Anakin was at the point-when asked how he was feeling-his most frequent response was “uncomfortable.” For someone who wasn't carrying twins, he supposed this wouldn't be the case...but the extra addition of another baby just made things more difficult much sooner. Obi-Wan tried to ease his pain as much as possible, but the younger man was still willful enough to insist that sleep and meditation was all that he needed. 

The Jedi Master gritted his teeth and focused on gently shielding the Twins’ Signatures as Anakin’s exhaustion and distress began to affect his concentration. They still couldn't come up with a time to tell the Council about the pregnancy. Anakin was stubbornly refusing to come clean, and though they’d been lucky to have mostly Temple-centric assignments, Obi-Wan knew they couldn't rely on it remaining that way up until the birth. The longer they waited, the more they risked being caught...and he dreaded to think of what the consequences would be. He knew that if they confessed to the issue before it was found out, they would at least be respected for their honesty. Shifting slightly, Obi-Wan raised a brow as Mace Windu gestured for silence.

“Since the Chancellor deems us untrustworthy unless monitored, it is only logical that we pursue the same vein of supposition” he said coldly. Yoda’s ears twitched slightly, as if in protest, but Mace either didn't see him or ignored the gesture. “Knight Skywalker, you will have your seat on this Council, but you will report any suspicious actions committed by the Palpatine to us.”

“That is not the Jedi way” Obi-Wan said sharply. “You can't ask this of-”

“-Knight Skywalker is not your padawan anymore” Windu cut in irritably. “Though you often seem to forget it.”

“That doesn't make it right” Anakin protested. “Can’t I just...cut ties with the Chancellor?”

“No. He trusts you implicitly, for whatever reason I don't know. And he's proven himself untrustworthy by forcing our hand with an executive order. Gather what information you can and update us regularly.” Windu glanced at Yoda, who was looking explicitly downcast for some reason. The Grand Master shook his head subtly, but didn't deign to speak. “Council is dismissed.”

Obi-Wan rose in protest.

“This is _scandalous-!_

“-It is _none of your concern_ ” was the harsh response, accompanied by a rather forceful mental Shove. _“Dismissed.”_

Obi-Wan was quite proud of the fact that he rarely lost his temper. It was something that encouraged him to be tolerant and accepting in situations where others would not. He was The Negotiator; able to succinctly and politely maneuver conversational diatribe to that which was most appropriate. Now however, he felt absolutely no shame as he stood up, grabbed Anakin’s arm, and stormed from the Chambers in a barely-restrained huff. He couldn’t tolerate puppeteers...it was the one thing he would have absolutely no part in. The Council rarely did it, it was explicitly against the Code...but they were desperate. Whispers rippled across the ranks that Yoda’s vision was clouded; that he could no longer see what was ahead of them. There was an oppressive sense of imminent threat, but its source was unknown...and as a result  
everyone was suspect. It was a degradation that Obi-Wan had thought he'd never live to see...but here it all was unfolding before his eyes. He could tolerate paranoia and carelessness, but not the flagrant exhibition of someone he loved as much as Anakin. The Council was using him in a manner no less vindictive than Palpatine, and he couldn’t condone it. At the same time, he couldn’t speak against it...not without jeopardizing their already precarious situation. 

“Obi-Wan, stop for a moment” Anakin muttered. 

Abruptly, he became aware of the dull, intermittent pain that was bleeding across their mental link. Obi-Wan turned and watched with concern as Anakin slumped against the wall and took some deep breaths. 

“It’s only a few more feet to the lift, do you think you can make it?”

The younger man grimaced but nodded and pushed away from the wall so he could shuffle the last few feet to the elevator. Once the door had closed and they were alone-for however briefly-Obi-Wan pressed an anxious hand to Anakin’s forehead. 

“M’fine” he mumbled, batting his hand away. “Just some contractions-from standing too long-” he supplied quickly as he sensed his former Master’s alarm. “-They’re called Brackish Hiccups.”

Obi-Wan’s lip twitched.

“Braxton Hicks?” he clarified in amusement.

“Yeah, that.”

“I'm sorry they interrogated you like that” he said gently. 

“Eh, well, it's nothing I'm not used to” was the bitter reply as the elevator opened and they made their way to their quarters. “Can you honestly say you were surprised?”

“By their questioning, no” Obi-Wan said wearily; keying in the passcode to their rooms and nodding at Master Fisto as he passed. “By their counter assignment…” he trailed off and shook his head. 

“I really don’t care if the Chancellor and the Council bark at each other ‘till they’re blue in the face” Anakin grumbled, shrugging out of his cloak and toeing off his boots. “I just wish they'd leave me out of it.”

“Did Palpatine mention he might pull something like this?” Obi-Wan asked curiously, tugging his comm out of his pocket and placing it on top of the dining table. 

The younger man hesitated, one hand hovering over the clasp to his obi as he considered his answer. After a moment, he sighed.

“...He did.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I couldn’t” was the short response. “I just...I _couldn’t_ Obi-Wan...you have to believe me.”

He watched pensively as his former padawan lowered himself down onto their shared sleeping couch with a grimace, a hand over his bump as he exhaled raggedly and closed his eyes. 

“You’re sure it's just Braxton Hicks?” Obi-Wan asked sharply.

Anakin cracked open an eye and nodded.

“Mm...yea. I should have asked for a seat or something” he groused, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. “It’s a little early on but not unexpected.” 

Obi-Wan frowned and looked away. He didn’t like that Palpatine had shared his intended demands of the Council with Anakin….and he certainly didn’t like that the young man had deemed it unnecessary to tell him about it. It wasn’t necessarily the secrecy that bothered him...it was the fact that Anakin had felt himself unable to confide in anyone...which suggested that Palpatine was holding something over him. Crossing over to sit next him on the bed, Obi-Wan gently began a gradient shoulder massage, which earned him a deep groan of appreciation. 

“Anakin...does Palpatine know about...us?”

The younger man swallowed reflexively.

“I've...never told him about us” he said tentatively. 

“...But?”

A frustrated growl was the swift response.

“Sometimes...he knows things...things that no one should know but me.”

Obi-Wan stilled, perturbed by his statement.

“I'm not sure I follow you” he replied. 

Anakin’s reluctance was palpable now, and he returned to the massage, hoping that it would get him to relax and open up. 

“...He knows my dreams” he muttered. “The things I fear.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room rushed across Obi-Wan’s arms. 

“Palpatine doesn't have a Force Signature” he murmured, mostly to himself. His attention snapped back to Anakin. “What are your dreams about?”

“People I care about getting hurt” was the whispered reply. “I...I can’t go into detail...not right now anyway.”

Now thoroughly agitated, Obi-Wan stood and began to pace. So...Palpatine knew Anakin feared loss. What could he do with that information? He couldn’t threaten to hurt the people he loved, that was an easy way for anyone to end up dead….he'd seen the result of such threats and they were ugly. The Chancellor would need something more concrete to hold over him...something finite that ultimately jeopardized neither of them but intermittently impacted the future. 

“I want you pulled off this assignment as soon as possible” Obi-Wan said darkly. “Something isn't right.”

Anakin chuckled wearily. 

“Obi-Wan...things haven't been “right” for a long while now.” 

“Do you feel it in the Force?”

“Somewhat” the younger man ceded. “I'm no meditation guru like you and Yoda...but it still doesn't feel normal. Even when I'm not meditating, it's like a veil...stretched across everything...clear plastic pulled tight y’know?”  
Anakin stiffened abruptly, his face a grimace of discomfort as he attempted to lean back then apparently thought better of it. “Can you put your-” he shook his head and grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand, pressing it against the swell of his stomach, just below and to the right of his navel. “There” he hissed, relaxing visibly and leaning back to ease the strain on his spine. 

“Anakin...I wish you would see a doctor regularly. I'm worried by how stressors are triggering your body.”

One of the twins kicked his hand, and Obi-Wan smiled fondly as a bright yellow swirl was thrown through his psyche; an errant method of greeting. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that in only three months time they were going to be parents. Even with Anakin’s tunics barely hiding his bump, they both suffered brief periods of denial. 

“I'm _fine_ ” Anakin said, with the air of someone who had repeated the same phrase far too much for their own liking. “You know what’ll happen if we start calling med-droids up here now.”

“I don’t know where you get your stubbornness” Obi-Wan groused. “It’s certainly not from me.”

At that, the younger man threw his head back and laughed, wincing slightly as the diaphragmatic pressure threw him off-kilter again.

“Haha!- _ah!_ -and who was it that got in a forty-five minute argument with a parking droid because it didn’t place your speeder in reverse?!” he chuckled. 

“Oh, rubbish. We’d been in a conference with the Correlian delegation for five hours….I was tired.”

“Mhmmm” Anakin said, raising an eyebrow and closing his eyes. “You wait. Our kids are gonna be so hard-headed a space worm won’t be able to chew its way through their thick skulls and it’ll be all your fault.”

“Don’t listen to a single word your mother says” Obi-Wan muttered sternly, bending slightly to speak directly to the twins. “Half of the words that come out of his mouth are utter and complete drivel.” 

A burst of blue and yellow Signature bounced across the paternal bond and he smirked as they proceeded to roll about in their continuously more confined space. 

“Don’t do that” Anakin complained. “They’re active enough without you egging them on.” 

The wall-mounted comm buzzed and Obi-Wan looked apologetically at Anakin as he went to answer it. The younger man smiled reassuringly and waved him away, pushing up off the wall so he could lie down on the mattress. The caller in question was Mace Windu, and he was careful to exchange pleasantries before launching into the true reason for his interruption. Obi-Wan thought that he might feel rather badly for how he had spoken to him during the Council Session. By the time they ‘got down to business’-so to speak-Anakin was snoring lightly. The Council had received intel that General Grievous and his troops were on the planet Utapau, and they wanted to send someone ahead of the army to apprehend him. Though the parameters of the mission expounded on the words ‘detain’ and ‘subdue’...the unspoken truth was that it would be a fight to the death. Grievous would never allow himself to fall into the hands of the Republic alive, it would be a grave dishonor. Windu emphasized on the fact that Anakin was not to come with him, and he was relieved that he wouldn’t be the one to force him to stay behind. This was a _’do or die’_ task. One that guaranteed only two avenues of completion...and he could not, in good conscience, allow Anakin to follow. Releasing the comm, Obi-Wan looked back at the sleeping form of his former padawan and sighed. He wouldn’t like it, but he would have to abide by it...for the sake of their children. 

Checking the chronometer, the Jedi Master was chagrined to see it was already nearly 2400. If he wanted to get to Utapau in any semblance of a timely manner, he would have to leave before 0530. Obi-Wan pulled a fresh change of clothes out of the closet and set it on one of the dining room chairs. He wouldn’t be carrying luggage...if all went well he'd be back within forty-eight hours. Anakin stirred and mumbled something unintelligible, his eyes fluttering slightly before he settled once more. Smiling fondly, Obi-Wan gently covered him with their shared blanket and set to making sure the room was in order. As usual, he spent a few moments in meditation before slipping under the coverlets. Almost immediately, Anakin turned to face him; his organic hand reaching out to twine their fingers together. He remained awake for a little while longer, soaking up the time he could spend with his other half before going to face what would either end in life or death. Around them, the stillness of the room took on an effervescent, suspended quality...as if stretching on into an endless horizon of forever. Obi-Wan knew better than to foolishly take what he had been given for granted...even if it was here now, tomorrow held no guarantee.

__________________________________________

When he was young, Qui-Gon Jinn used to tease him about having no interest in romantic pursuits. Watching as stars streaked by in the yawning void of hyperspace; Obi-Wan smiled nostalgically. Jedi were forbidden from seeking attachment, but that didn’t mean that satisfaction was out of the question. Qui-Gon had no qualms about disappearing from the Temple perhaps twice a year...off to some questionable bar on the edges of nowhere to pursue the pleasures of the flesh. He came back happier...less harsh than he usually was. Obi-Wan turned a blind eye to it, not because he didn’t approve, but because he didn’t understand. Giving one’s body to a stranger with no name utterly baffled him. By the time he was fourteen, he’d already made up his mind that if he was going to surrender himself to someone...he would have to love them. Obi-Wan couldn’t do casual, it wasn’t in his nature. He was good at negotiating with diplomats and placating allies because he truly cared about what he was doing. Qui-Gon was brash, bold and emphatic...but he wasn’t _passionate._ His impatience with the Order’s slow-to-evolve policies and their inability to be flexible blinded him...up until the moment of his death. Obi-Wan embraced living, and he embraced those around him as equals in their oneness with the Force.

It was-in part-what had made him reject Anakin’s initial advances so vehemently. When Qui-Gon had died, he’d left him with the task of raising a boy with a Force Signature the size of a quasar and the attitude of a krayt dragon. For the better part of a year, he was bitter and resentful, but determined to fulfill his promise. Bit by bit, his charge had wormed his way into his heart...with his wonder of a galaxy he had seen so little of, and his painfully honest observations of that which was around him. He grew to care for Anakin, then to love him...and then he turned sixteen and his skin was a marvel of golden musculature...his eyes bluer than the deepest of sapphires and Obi-Wan felt a _pull_ towards him-an attraction that left him terrified and ashamed. He was pushing thirty and lusting after a teenager who looked to him as a paternal figure. So, when Anakin kissed him in the Room of a Thousand Fountains he figured it was overflow from his psyche and proceeded to give him a black eye that he hoped would knock his senses back in order. It didn’t. Anakin was stubborn. Horribly stubborn. He chipped away at Obi-Wan’s defenses until everything crumbled down all at once...reduced to tribadism and a metal tabletop. He’d really, honestly thought that would be the end of it. That once his disillusioned padawan had seen him at the height of desperation and abandonment, he would lose interest. 

Again...he was horribly wrong. 

Anakin proceeded to get him so drunk he could hardly remember his name, and by the time he’d even partially sobered he was being fucked into his sleeping couch and he couldn’t bring himself to regret a single minute of it. So began their rocky relationship...which of course had led to him getting his comrade-in-arms pregnant with twins. He was almost positive that Qui-Gon was laughing hysterically in his grave. It was the sort of thing he’d do, anyway; remain celibate for three decades and then knock up the Chosen One. If he could compare it to anything, it was rather like he’d been aboard a freight train ever since Qui-Gon’s death...his destination already decided while he resignedly hung on for the ride. He didn’t regret loving Anakin, certainly not. But he sometimes reflected that a warning would have been nice. Then again, if the Force had told him that the small boy sitting in a junk shop on Tattooine was going to bear his children, he'd probably have run the other way…

It was a struggle...he wouldn't attempt deny it. Anakin was headstrong, hated hearing the word no, hadn’t a shred of shame and barely any humility. He descended on their romance like fire on prairie grass; leaving Obi-Wan struggling to keep up...overwhelmed by his seemingly endless affection. When Anakin first told him _’I love you’_ he’d left the Temple and gone on a 48-hour bender. He was devastated, sure that his padawan’s declaration of an affection he already possessed would be the end of them. His entire life, he’d been forced to suppress attachment...and now he’d not only damned himself, he’d damned his apprentice. Two days and a monstrous hangover later, Anakin dragged him back to the Temple and sparred with him hand-to-hand. He was blind with despair when he broke the younger man’s nose and the minute he saw blood he sank to the floor and sobbed that he loved Anakin but he was _terrified._ They’d stayed like that for hours.. huddled on the floor of the sparring chamber while scarlet spread across their mussed-up robes. From that point on, he didn't resist as much but was no less apprehensive of the consequences should they get caught.

A surge of urgency through the Force had him pushing the turbos harder than he usually would. Utapau had gone about as well as expected. Even with the natives and their quadripedaal mounts on his side, fighting Grievous had taken its toll. Obi-Wan had never been a fan of the “bad-guy monologue” that nefarious members of the Galaxy tended to employ...but Grievous was uncomfortably chatty. He'd gone into the fight with a significant amount of confidence and by the end he'd succeeded by the skin of his teeth. Grievous was no seasoned novice with his many lightsabers...but the dexterity of his mechanical arms still made him a formidable opponent. Still, he was no Sith Lord and his weakness was purely physical, nothing more. No, it was only after the War General was absolutely and thoroughly dead that he realized that something was horribly wrong. He could barely feel Anakin...his Signature was the faintest of flickers, ebbing in and out of existence. It was as if he'd been wounded...as if he was slowly dying and he was witnessing it across miles and miles of space. So while the Clones continued their triumphant sweep of Utapau he jumped back into his speeder and returned to Coruscant, praying desperately that whatever was wrong, he wouldn't be too late.

__________________________________________

Anakin woke alone.

Blinking in the late morning light, he rolled to pull Obi-Wan close to him and encountered empty air. Sending tendrils of Force Awareness into the Bond, his concern grew as the answering tug came from infinitesimally far away. He immediately discerned that Obi-Wan was nowhere near the Temple, perhaps not even on Coruscant...and growing more and more distant by the minute. Now thoroughly alarmed, Anakin sat up abruptly and his hand nudged something hard and cool next to his pillow. Yanking it aside, he snatched up the holorecorder beneath it with a sense of indignant desperation. Pressing the playback button, he relaxed only slightly as his former Master’s voice filled the room.

***”Anakin, I'm so very sorry to leave you- the three of you-so abruptly. The Council has called me away on an urgent mission, and I have to leave now in order to get there on time. I know you must be rather upset with me, but I hate to wake you. You had such a difficult day yesterday, and you look so peaceful right now.I should be back the day after tomorrow, so I won't be gone long. You’ll barely have time to miss me. I love you dearly, and I hope you can forgive me this small transgression. I've left you something on the table, if you’ll have a look. Be good now, and don't worry. Kenobi out.***

The comm flickered off and Anakin sighed raggedly, running a distracted hand through his hair. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his tunic and stood, stumbling over the the ‘fresher. Standing under the heated spray, he reflected that Obi-Wan had only meant the best by not bothering to wake him. He _had_ been tired and he felt much better with a full night's rest. Procuring himself a new change of clothes from the wardrobe, he dressed slowly and wandered over to the table where a brown paper shopping bag sat; looking perfectly innocuous. It rustled softly as Anakin gently brushed the handles aside to take a peek and drew in a sharp breath. Nestled at the bottom were four round, palm-sized fruits. A deep orange dusted with streaks of purple, they sported a soft fuzzy skin and a sweet citrus-drupe scent that made his mouth water. Nabooian Meryl were exceedingly rare; growing only in the brief period of a week on the eastern shores of the planet. Padme had split one with him during their time at the palace, and he'd thought his mouth had died and gone to heaven. On Coruscant, they cost an arm and a leg and were nigh impossible to find. Blinking away sudden-and _surely_ hormone related-tears, Anakin fished one out and took a bite, groaning almost unconsciously as heady flavor burst over his tongue. One of the twins sent a fuzzy arc of bright pink bubbles and he grinned, closing his eyes and ushering the essence of the next bite through his psyche, idly brushing a hand over his bump. It took all of his willpower not to eat all four meryl right there, right then. He was still somewhat hungry and the twins enjoyed them so much they were ‘clamoring’ for more, but he wanted to share at least one with Ahsoka and save the last to split with Obi-Wan when he returned. Pocketing two, he hunted about for his socks and chewed on a nutribar as he checked the e-calendar. His apprentice was expecting him at 0920, which left him about fifteen minutes to clean up and check the news. 

Clipping his lightsaber to his belt, Anakin paused and tugged irritably at his tunic. As much as he wanted to deny it, he wasn't going to be able to hide the twins for much longer. Even his over-tunic and cloak were becoming poor shields to his condition. If he wrapped his obi at the waist and tucked the corners of his tabard into his belt, he could pass for normal. Still, the twins’ Signatures were incredibly volatile, shielding them was a task and a half. Ahsoka was starting to give him some hairy looks, and he disliked the idea of springing the news on her after he delivered, or after he was caught...whichever came first. With Obi-Wan gone and the Council not due to reassemble until the next day, now was the perfect opportunity to address the issue calmly and politely. Exiting the accommodation sector and taking the lift to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Anakin nodded at Master Luminara and surreptitiously drew his robes tighter around him. He'd been wanting to work with Ahsoka on meditation techniques for a few weeks now, but he'd never been sure how to bring it up. Before he’d taken to accessing the twins’ Signatures via the Force, he'd scoffed at the practice, and had never forced his apprentice to put a heavy focus on it. Now he deeply regretted his blatantly flaunted disdain, as Ahsoka was just about as fond of meditation as he had been...the results of his negligent training. 

Moving around a glittering display of tumbling fountains, he came across an open glade nestled against an artificial rock face. It was small, barely enough room for two people to sit in relative comfort, and circular in shape. Soft blades of Alderaanian grass were surrounded by four small tiered waterfalls, the ambient song of aqueous descent curled against his eardrums before dropping away. Ahsoka was setting out two woven meditation mats-readily available at the entrance-with a resigned expression on her face. Beside her was a small bundled package of herbs and a clay censer, smoking idly. A light sweet-sour scent permeated the air, and he resisted the urge to grimace. He couldn’t fault Ahsoka for her cultural proclivities. There were quite a few Jedi who enjoyed incense and the like, but he couldn’t bring himself to appreciate it. Obi-Wan was dreadfully allergic to sage and the other, heavier smells made him lightheaded and sniffly. Anakin had once lit a stick of mallowsweet in their quarters and his Master had sneezed on and off for nearly two days. Pulling himself out of his memories, he observed his apprentice with a fond eye. If he did end up having to resign from the Order, he would miss her. She’d grown so much in the few short years that they’d come to get to know each other. Gone was the apprentice that would have run into a guarded security shield and blown up a starfighter. In its place was a padawan nearly ready for the trials, having faced down the atrocities of the Clone Wars and the mechanisms of a Republic that was struggling to remain whole. He’d not been the perfect Master, not by far...but he’d done his best. What with everything Obi-Wan had taught him, and the knowledge he’d incurred during his time as a Knight and war general. He smirked as Ahsoka’s montrals quivered and she hopped to her feet with a bright smile.

“Skyguy! I was wondering when you were gonna get here!”

He shook his head and raised a brow.

“I’ve been here for about five minutes” he replied. “You’re getting sloppy.”

She made a face.

“You’ve been watching for five minutes? Creepy...Master.” 

“About as creepy as when I caught you watching that Zeltronian dancer at The Glow Spider” he murmured, leaning in and raising a conspiratorial eyebrow. “But you don’t see _me_ blabbing.”

“That-that was different!” she spluttered. “I thought he might be a spy!”

“Mhmm” Anakin drawled, moving to sit down on one of the mats. “I’m sure he had a microphone built into his six pack...you never know.” He chuckled as she blushed a bright orange and patted the mat across from him. “C’mon Snips, sit down. I...want to talk to you about something.” 

Sensing the abrupt change in his mood, his apprentice did as she was told, settling down with a curious expression and folding her hands. Taking a deep breath, Anakin briefly collected himself before launching into the conversation. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that my Signature has been...different” he said slowly. 

Ahsoka looked uncomfortable, her eyes glancing down and to the side.

“Well...yeah. But I didn’t want to say anything, I just figured you were trying something different, y’know?” 

He sighed and smiled fondly.

“If only it were that simple” he said quietly.

“Is everything alright?” she said anxiously.

He hesitated, rubbing his mechanical hand over the hilt of his lightsaber. 

“Ahsoka...I may not be in the Order much longer.”

Alarm dashed across his padawan’s face, and her knuckles turned pinkish as she clasped her hands together hard.

“But… _why?_ ”

“I found out that I'm Carrier.”

She frowned and fidgeted somewhat.

“But...they _can't_ expel you just ‘cause they didn't catch it earlier!” Smiling wryly, he brushed his cloak to the side and pressed a hand to the swell of his stomach, watching as her eyes widened. “ _Oh!_ you're-you’re….”

“Pregnant” he finished calmly. “Twins, actually.”

A myriad of emotions flickered over Ahsoka’s face; confusion, hurt, and resentment being the most prominent. She didn't speak for several minutes afterwards, and he sensed that she was carefully schooling her feelings.

“I...don’t understand” she finally whispered.

“Before you jump to assumptions, I just want to say that the person who...got me this way is someone I have loved for a long, long time” he mumbled somewhat awkwardly. “We’ve been together for years, and we only found out I was a Carrier when I started getting sick.”

“Since before Nal-Hutta then” she murmured, surprise crossing her features. “You've been...with child that long?!”

“Yes.”

“But…! You’ve been on missions! _Dangerous_ ones!”

“I had to, Snips” he said emphatically. “We - we’re taking leave soon, I don't know where we’ll go but I can't have them here. I might not come back.”

“But you're my _Master!_ ” she protested, her eyes now brimming with tears. “You can't just leave me! Can I go with you?” 

“No” he said firmly. “You’re future is here, with the Order. You wouldn't be happy with me. The Council will appoint you a new Master...a better one.” He smiled gently. “One that won't go and get himself knocked up.”

“I don’t want a new Master” she sniffled. “And I don't care if you have kids...I think that rule is stupid anyway.”

“Don’t say that” he protested, reaching forward to clasp her hand tightly. “The Order is flawed, I'll be the first one to admit it...but without people like you, it’ll never learn to change. Being a Jedi is an honor, and I have carried that honor with me for as long as I can, but I can't anymore.” He dropped her hand and looked away. “Honestly Snips, I'm so tired of fighting. I love the Galaxy, and I've loved protecting it, but this war...it’s _exhausting_. I've watched my men, _good_ men die in bloody piles crying for relief...for peace. You’re stronger than me, you can handle it, but I'm sick of it.”

“But you're the Chosen One” she whispered, her shoulders slumped resignedly. “You’re supposed to save the Galaxy!”

“I'm rubbish at all that prophecy wish wash” he said wryly. “And I don't think a pregnant Jedi who can barely get to the bathroom in the middle of the night is going to save the Republic.”

At that, she laughed.

“You never know, Skyguy.” 

He grinned. 

“Hm, yeah. Maybe I’ll yell so loud on the birthing table I’ll shatter the Sith’s eardrums.”

“Ugh! Master, I don't wanna hear that!”

He grinned and raised his hands in a gesture of apology before sobering once more.

“I can trust you to keep this between us, can't I?”

She gave him a glowering stare.

“I've covered for you so much I might as well be a blanket, Skyguy” she said dryly. “You know me better than that.” 

“I had to ask” he said gently. “Training you has been one of the greatest honors I've ever received, I want you to know that.”

“Just one of them, huh?” she chirped, grinning cheekily.

“I'm loved by someone with a heart bigger than Coruscant, or so I'm pretty much convinced” he laughed. “And I'm carrying his children, so yes, just one of them.” He raised an eyebrow. “And don’t go nosing into his identity or I’ll tell Master Fisto about the time you put Chandrilan guppies in his bathtub.”

Ahsoka smiled, a little bit sadly.

“I won't...but I have a feeling I know who he is already.”

They talked for several hours more, reminiscing of their time together, and the missions they’d been on. Once they’d had their fill of conversation, Anakin suggested that they meditate, and it was an enlightening experience. More so than ever he felt regret at not introducing Ahsoka to the psychic realms of the Force sooner. Her Signature was vibrant, overflowing with happiness and community. If he'd only applied the practice sooner, she would be one of the most balanced Jedi he had ever seen. Come noon, he produced the fruit Obi-Wan had given him from his pockets, grinning as he watched her eyes widen with utter wonderment at the array of flavors. The twins, who had been clamoring for more of the meryl since that morning, were happy and content. 

“I still don't understand why you don't resent the Order more, after all they’ve done to you.” 

Evening had fallen and the sunlight slanting across the Fountains has taken on a golden-orange hue. Ahsoka had gone to get them some dinner, and they were picking idly at a shared plate of seared yobshrimp and ferroan spinach. Ahsoka shrugged and popped a shrimp into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before answering. 

“It was all just...a mess. They thought I was working with Ventress, and I almost didn't know who to trust.” She waved her grubsticks idly. “I couldn’t think about it too much...it hurt, but they didn't know. I can’t control what information the Order didn't have.” 

“For what it’s worth...I never stopped believing in you.”

She smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but stopped abruptly, looking over Anakin’s shoulder. 

“Master Windu” she said calmly, rising to bow. “I hope this evening finds you in good spirits.”

She stepped in front of Anakin so he could adjust his robes and stand as hastily as was physically possible. Mace’s eyes swept over the two of them, softening slightly as he smiled at Ahsoka. 

“Indeed, young one. I am quite well this evening.” He glanced at their plate of shrimp and looked appropriately contrite. “I'm sorry to interrupt your meal Knight Skywalker, but the Chancellor is asking for you. It seems urgent.” 

Their eyes met, and he read the double-meaning in his statement. _Collect what information you can, report back as soon as possible._ Feeling somewhat irritated, Anakin nodded jerkily.

“I’ll go right away” he muttered. “Thanks for the meal, Snips.”

“Be careful, Skyguy” she whispered. 

Bowing to Windu, he rolled up his mat and left it at the front entrance, pausing to collect his thoughts and check his pocketcomm. When no messages were forthcoming, he hurried to the hangar bay and procured a speeder. Launching into the heavy evening traffic, he couldn’t help the sensation of trepidation that seemed to crawl in the back of his throat. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t place it. It was a thin ribbon of uncertainty in the Force...whispering across his psyche and worming its way into his bones. The Twins were still but awake, their Signatures tremulous and discontent. That alone nearly made him turn around, but greater than his nervousness was a sense of grim purpose...of fulfillment. He tried to center himself during his brief flight to the Senate Building, but was only marginally successful. A fearful, self-preserving part of him screamed for him to stay, but yet another clamored that he _had no choice._

The guards in the Senate Building were as taciturn and grim-faced ash usual...nothing out of the ordinary. A dull, monotone voice announced the comings and goings of inner city legislative decisions, and he passed several prominent Senators who paid him absolutely no mind. Two members of the Guard met him as he exited the loft and escorted him to the Chancellor’s office with their everyday sociable drivel, complaining of how their feet hurt from standing around so long, and how their wages were atrocious. Palpatine was sitting at his desk when Anakin stepped into the room and rose to greet him with a familiar, fatherly smile...but something was...off. 

“Anakin, Anakin” he said fondly, coming forward and clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s so good to see you again, my dear boy. There’s so much I want to discuss with you.”

 

They talked of idle things...subjects of little to no consequence to the Order. An attendant brought them tea and bowed himself out. Palpatine expounded on the great measures he was taking in the Senate to reform their policies. He spoke of off-planet ventures and his memories of when the political system wasn’t so convoluted. The longer he talked, the more nervous Anakin felt himself getting. It was as if the Chancellor was trying to put him off-kilter...or lull him into a false sense of security. It wasn’t until an hour later, when darkness had truly fallen over Coruscant and the tea was taken away, that their discussion turned to more serious matters. 

“I've just received word from Utapau” Palpatine commented, standing and striding to one of the massive windows. “You know, of course, that we received intel stating that Grievous was stationed there.” 

Anakin hesitated, thrown by this information that the Council had so obviously neglected to tell him.

“That’s...good news” he said slowly. “Will you be sending the Clones there?”

The Chancellor turned, and the expression on his face was that of earnest surprise.

“Didn't you know, my boy? The Council sent your former Master out to apprehend him just this morning!” He tsked at Anakin’s shocked expression. “My, my. Your own _Master_ didn't tell you he was off to slay one of the Galaxy’s most wanted war criminals? He mustn't think very highly of you at all.”

“I was asleep” Anakin said sharply. “He...he left me a message telling me that he'd be back soon.”

“And so he shall” the Chancellor mused. “I hear that he has already killed Grievous, and is on his way back to Coruscant now.”

He was positively floored. Why hadn’t Obi-Wan at least told him where he was going...let alone why?? Moreover, why hadn’t the Council informed him that they had unanimously decided to take down General Grievous with a single Jedi?? Surely his place on the Council at least permitted him to know about that!

“If you recall” Palpatine continued, beginning to pace the circumference of the office. “I asked you to report to me what the Council was planning.”

Anakin swallowed reflexively and attempted to clear his mind. 

“They…” he stopped and cleared his throat. “They were upset that you ordered them to put me on the Council. They want me to report what you say back to them.”

The Chancellor chuckled and shook his head.

“I can see now that my request was an unnecessary waste of resources and time. They obviously don't trust you enough to include you in major movements. I gave an executive order that you be present during all major decisions and they blatantly ignored me.” 

“It’s not my fault!” Anakin protested. “I've done what I could...but they won't let me in!”

“Oh, I know” Palpatine soothed, crossing back over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Believe me, I know how hard it is to gain the trust of the Order. I've been trying and failing ever since I came into office.”  
There was silence between them for a few minutes, and the Chancellor moved away to look out the window again. “Tell me…” he finally said. “Have your nightmares subsided?”

Caught off-guard, Anakin floundered for a minute before steeling himself.

“I'd rather not talk about that” he said firmly. “It’s private.”

“Of course, of course” was the comforting reply. “But I wonder...what will you do when your visions come true?”

“They’re...just dreams” Anakin said hesitantly. “Just fears. Jedi are taught to accept their misgivings and leave the Fate of others to the Force.”

The Chancellor sighed dramatically and turned to face him.

“And yet...it's so troubling isn't it? To just sit back and watch what you could have prevented unfold...do you truly want that?”

“Of course not” the younger man replied, feeling sick at the very thought. “But...I can’t do anything about it.”

Palpatine tsked and returned to his seat, steepling his fingers. 

“Tell me...what do you know about Darth Plagueis The Wise?” 

Anakin shifted uncomfortably.

“...He was a Sith Lord...an incredibly powerful one at that…”

“Ah yes” was the excited reply. “And he was strong in the Force, so strong that it is said that he discovered a way to prevent people from dying.”

“But...that's impossible!” 

A shadow of disdain crossed the Chancellor’s visage.

“For a Jedi, it would be. You so limit yourselves by only accessing the Light Side of the Force. It blinds you to all the opportunities the Universe has to offer.” He waved an errant hand. “Darth Plagueis’ knowledge would have been lost with him when he died...but he was wise enough to pass it down to his apprentice.” He smiled. “I can teach you to trump death, my boy...if you’ll only accept me as your Master...and swear your allegiance to my cause.”

It was as if a curtain had been pulled away from his eyes. Realization struck him harder than a podracer going full speed down the strip. The shielding around Palpatine fell away with his words, and he saw him for who he was. 

“You’re the Sith Lord!” he gasped, jumping up and putting a hand to his lightsaber. 

Unperturbed, the elder man pressed him further. 

“Just _imagine_ ….everyone you love, safe from the cold clutches of death for eternity. You and Obi-Wan, free to love as you wish...your children raised to be powerful Dark Jedi, Masters of the Force!” 

A part of Anakin wavered. It brought back the bloody carnage of his dreams in full force, the reality of the fact that even his children would die eventually. The Order _was_ flawed...old-fashioned and rigidly unforgiving. What right did they have to deny the Chosen One his privilege as a Force User?? They’d always been disdainful and apprehensive of him, despite the fact that he'd saved their sorry asses countless times during the war. They hadn't trusted him enough to tell him about Obi-Wan’s mission to Utapau...how could he trust them in return?

“What will it take for you to see that you walk the wrong path?” Palpatine crooned. “How do you know they won't crush you into the ground once they learn of your amorous misdeeds? Look what they did to your padawan...and simply because they were _suspicious_ of her.”

His head was feeling unbearably heavy, as if he was swimming through deep water. Every word the Chancellor said was making more and more sense. 

“I...don’t want anything bad to happen to our children” he said thickly.

“The Order doesn't deserve you” the Sith Lord whispered, moving close to him. “And it _certainly_ doesn't deserve your children. Bow to me, swear your allegiance to my Empire and I will grant you everything you desire.”

One of his knees was already bending, his head descending as he prepared to swear fealty. Then, abruptly, an image of Obi-Wan crossed his mind’s eye. Of his dutiful and patient Master sitting in the quiet of their quarters reading a book; his head bent and his auburn hair softly glowing in dying daylight. A rustle of a simple cloak, that smell of cinnamon that was so uniquely his...the long, calloused roughness of his hands as they placed it on his stomach, whispering love to the life within. Obi-Wan believed in the Order. He knew it was flawed, but there was always opportunity to reform. He would never in sound mind agree to follow a Sith...and he would be heartbroken if Anakin did. Love did not equal descent...it did not mean that one had succumb to the Dark. A vision of Obi-Wan facing him down on the field of battle, grim-faced and weary from years of pursuit rose unbidden. He saw a rift impossible to mend...a betrayal so monstrous there was no hope of atonement. And in that moment of clarity Anakin realized he could not cheat death without cheating life...without throwing all definitions of himself aside. He would rip his soul from his body and sunder it into a million pieces...nothing but a subservient husk to a perverse regime. And as he drew his lightsaber to end the illusion before him, he knew that whether he lived or died, he had made the right choice...the _good_ choice. 

Palpatine’s eyes widened as he swung his blade, twisting with the determination of a means to end. He drove the pure, blue light straight into his heart; but not before an explosion of white lightning shattered through his bones, jerking him into an inferno of pain and agony. Darth Sidious crumbled to the floor, a husk of nothing...just as he had intended Anakin to be. And as slow, rolling throbs of pain lanced through his body, he picked up his comm with shaking fingers and contacted Mace.

***”Windu here.”***

”Palpatine…” Anakin wheezed, aware of a coppery tang filling his mouth and spilling over the corner of his lips. ”Y-y’were right...he’s a-a Sith…” His eyes flickered over to the prone form sprawled beside him. ”I-I’ve in-c-c-pacitated him...but...need help.”

***”We’re on the way. Skywalker- _Anakin_ -talk to me. What happened?.”**

He shuddered and dropped the comm, his hands stiffening as unconsciousness rolled into the forefront of his mind like a stormfront.

"I-I...I’m sorry… tell… _tell_ O-Obi-Wan…I.. ” 

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly the longest chapter I have ever written. I hope this makes up for my absence. And I apologize for the cliffhanger! ;)


	8. Where You Belong

He nearly bowled Ahsoka over in the docking bay.

Jumping out of his transport and sprinting full-tilt down the hangar, Obi-Wan yelped as he half-collided, half-fell over his former padawan’s padawan. Ahsoka squeaked and yanked at his tunic to keep them both from toppling over. Once they had righted themselves he was alarmed to see her eyes were full of tears, her montrals quivering with suppressed emotion. The young apprentice’s Force Signature was a mess, a roil of unkempt anxiety and fear. 

“Anakin!” she gasped. “Master Kenobi, you _have_ to go see Anakin!”

Alarm coursed through him, dreadful and more pressing than ever before.

“What happened?” he demanded, taking her shoulders and resisting the urge to shake them. 

Ahsoka gulped and her eyes flickered rapidly before she grabbed his hand and began tugging him away. He complied automatically and almost immediately, she broke into a run.

“Palpatine is- _was_ -a Sith” she said hurriedly as they exited the docking bay and began to sprint through the halls.

“He- _what?!”_

“The Chancellor called for Anakin” she continued breathlessly. “I don’t know what they discussed, but it revealed that he was the Sith we’ve been looking for.” 

Cold fear crawled into Obi-Wan’s throat. Around them, the Temple was in chaos. Numerous Jedi ran back and forth, stopping to converse hastily before rushing on to their intended destination. None of them paid him or Ahsoka any mind, save for a few distracted glances. 

“Anakin faced off against him alone??”

Ahsoka skidded to a halt momentarily, gathering her bearings before dragging him in the direction of the medical quarters. 

“Yes...and he killed him. But he’s hurt, badly.”

“ _How_ badly?!”

“I don’t know!” she cried, stopping at one of the doors and wringing her hands. “They wouldn't tell me, they seemed...upset.” She glanced at him. “I know about the twins” she whispered. “He told me, before-before-” she shook her head abruptly and jabbed her finger at the door. “He's in there. They won't let me in.” 

Every instinct screamed at him to rush in, but Obi-Wan stopped and put a comforting hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of him” he said seriously. “I _promise_.”

She blinked rapidly and her lip trembled.

“I know you will” she said brokenly. 

Palming the control panel, he overrode the lock on it with the Force and stepped inside. The room itself was white and nondescript, a series of monitoring screens were built into the wall and a sink was to the left in a small alcove. Next to it was a door to what he presumed was the ‘fresher, and directly in front, a gray privacy screen hid Anakin from view. Determined to see him for himself, Obi-Wan stepped forward but was almost immediately halted by Mace Windu, who looked tired and slightly apologetic.

“I'm sorry Kenobi” he said firmly. “But you can't see him right now, there's a...situation.”

“He’s pregnant” Obi-Wan snapped, not caring in the slightest as the older Jedi’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I already know. Now, get out of my way, or I will make you.” 

For a long moment, it seemed as if Windu would take him up on his offer of combat. Obi-Wan supposed it would be dreadfully immature to start a brawl in a place of healing, but he was so upset and desperate to see Anakin that he was willing to do just about anything. Then, abruptly, Mace stepped aside, his expression unreadable. Obi-Wan swept past without a second thought and yanked the curtains aside. The first thing that registered-and with a considerable amount of relief-was the Signature of the Twins. Obi-Wan felt close to collapsing as he recognized that they were alive and well, if a bit unsettled. One of the healers had placed Anakin on his side, facing the door. He had been dressed in the standard medical pants and tunic; white, soft, and loose. A nondescript blanket was pulled up to his chest, and if he hadn’t known better, Obi-Wan might have assumed he was simply sleeping. However, the flickering unresponsive nuance of his psychic essence told him otherwise. He was unconscious, certainly, but he couldn’t feel Anakin’s _mind_. It was as if his mental process had been shut down…or drawn behind an impenetrable veil. Even as he sat shakily down on the only chair available, Obi-Wan registered that he was utterly alone in their Bond. There was an absence…a vacancy that left him aching and devastated. A body lay beside him…a body carrying his children…but the spirit was elsewhere. Lifting a trembling hand to grasp the long fingers that lay listless across the coverlets, he had to bite back tears. 

“Obi-Wan…”

Luminara’s face was sympathetic and understanding as she came around the curtain, her approach cautious and sensitive. 

“I can’t sense him” he muttered, shaking his head. “…Why can’t I _feel_ him?!”

His fellow Master knelt beside him and took the hand that wasn’t occupied in both of hers. 

“These are your children, aren’t they?” He nodded blankly, his mind devoid of anything but the yawning void that was once a powerful Bond. “Do you know their genders?” Again, he did not speak, preferring to jerkily shake his head. “A boy and a girl, both very, very Force Sensitive Obi-Wan. I’ve been privy to monitoring them and they are simply brilliant.” 

“Of course they are” he said brokenly. “They’re a part of him.”

“And you” she pressed. “They will need you.”

“Where is he?!” he finally demanded, losing his patience and shaking her hands off. “Just- _tell_ -me for fuck’s sake!” 

Luminara withdrew and stood, crossing over to the opposite side of the bed and checking a monitoring screen, her expression that of cautious apprehension.

“Obi-Wan…Palpatine…the Sith Lord…he hit Anakin with an immensely strong bolt of Force Lightning. It was a miracle that we were able to get his heart started again…but his-his mind…” she took a shuddering breath. “Master Yoda has already been to see him and he can’t find him…anywhere. It’s-it’s like he’s retreated Beyond, Obi-Wan.” 

“What does that even mean?” he asked, unable to stop the incredulous scorn that crept into his voice. “ _‘Beyond’???_ Beyond what?!”

“Anakin’s consciousness melded with the Force as a defense mechanism” Luminara supplied wearily. “Unfortunately, when it did that, it detached itself from his physical body.” 

“You’re telling me he’s _brain dead”_ he whispered in horror.

“Not necessarily” she said hastily. “It’s possible that he could be found…that someone who knew him well enough could bring him back.” She twisted her fingers together in a nervous gesture. “It…won’t be easy, and there’s a possibility the Seeker could get lost in the lifestream as well.” 

“I know him better than anyone” Obi-Wan said firmly. “I’ll do it.”

“I know you want to” Luminara said, sounding slightly desperate. “But there is something to consider before you do. Should you…lose your way…your children will be without both of their parents. Are you willing to risk that?” 

Obi-Wan looked away and thought for a few minutes. Anakin would never forgive him if he abandoned their children…but everything they’d done up to this point revolved around ensuring that they were together in this endeavor. He could raise the twins alone…but he would never be able to forgive himself for not trying. It would be a burden he carried on his shoulders for the rest of his life, and his children would know that he had opted not to try and save Anakin when he could have. 

“If I should fail contact Senator Amidala” he said hoarsely. “It’s not official, but I know that if anything happened to us, Anakin would have wanted her to decide what happened to them.” 

Luminara’s gaze searched his for a long moment, looking for even the slightest bit of uncertainty. Obi-Wan held her stare, determined to present himself as utterly committed. Seeing his complete dedication, she appeared to sag for a moment before nodding reluctantly. 

“Finding him will be similar to meditating” she said quietly, moving away from the bed and dimming the lights. “Think of things that are synonymous with his spirit…things that are uniquely his and no one else’s. Concentrate only on those things, on the definition of Anakin Skywalker. You will know if you find him.” She hesitated. “You should know…that there will be consequences that you must face after this, both of you.” 

Obi-Wan nodded.

“I know.” 

She smiled gently and walked towards the privacy curtain, stopping just before it and turning to look at him. 

“For what it’s worth…I’ve always known. Feel free to begin whenever you are ready.”

__________________________________________________________________________

_Anakin was floating…though to where he couldn’t say._

_It seemed that he was surrounded by everything and nothing…a single speck among thousands in a ray of sunlight; tumbling down into eternity. His purpose escaped him, the definition of his identity trailing behind like so much dust. There was no sense of urgency…no hurriedness…only the need to be, to endure and to prevail. If he could compare it to anything, it was like being in a crowded room where everyone was speaking in hushed whispers…blindfolded and sitting in the center; aware of everything going on but unable and not wanting to do anything about it. There was a sanctity to it…a sense of delicate balance that one didn’t dare disrupt, preferring only to sit back and admire. Underneath it all was a sense of urgency, but he couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t understand what he might be forgetting or why it might be important. There was only harmony…the sense of unification and somnolence, on and into forever._

_Then, abruptly, his feet hit solid ground. Slowly, with the motion much akin to a curtain being pulled aside, his vision cleared. Anakin stood in a circle of what appeared to be strange, rough-shaped dwellings; about three-quarters as tall as he was. Dark and muddy, with animal hides covering the entrances, they appeared strangely distorted, grayish and foggy; like a bad transmission sent over a great distance of space. Around him, small figures clad in tan-colored robes with strange masks over their faces walked to and fro. They didn’t appear to see him, instead they passed him by without a single glance; like phantoms from a time gone past. Looking down, he acknowledged that his stomach was suddenly mysteriously flat…but it didn’t alarm him for some reason. He realized, with a certain twinge of trepidation, that he was in the village of the Sand People on Tatooine…the same village that he’d tried and failed to rescue his mother from. Looking to the left, he caught his breath as his eyes took in the ovular hole in one of the tents; softly glowing and strangely virulent…as if his lightsaber had just cut through it. Moving forwards, he bent down with his hand shaking, dreading what he was about to see._

_Shmi Skywalker sat exactly where he had found her before, but this time she was whole. Her hands were not bound to posts, her face was clear of any lashes or bruises…and she was looking directly at him, smiling as if she’d been expecting him. She wore a deep blue dress and soft-looking boots…in her hands was a bowl of water but she set it to the side upon seeing him._

_“Ani” she said quietly, stretching out a hand._

_Slowly, as if moving in a dream, he ducked into the tent…all the while drinking in her face, determined to mark it into his memory. When he was close enough, she patted the ground across from her and he complied unthinkingly, sinking to the floor and crossing his legs. For a while he could only sit there and gaze at her…his mother; the one woman he had loved more dearly than his own life. The one he had watched die in his arms…broken and bleeding. She stared back with those beautiful, loving eyes he had craved so desperately and so long…her face speaking of nothing but unconditional affection and pride._

_“…Mom” he finally said, and his voice broke._

_At that, she leaned forward and took his face in her soft, warm hands; kissing his forehead and running a hand through his hair._

_“Oh…Ani…I’ve missed you so, so much.”_

_The sob that rose from his throat was entirely involuntary, born from years and years of suppressed despair and grief. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, and the arms that folded around him were so familiar, so utterly comforting that he never, ever wanted to leave. Her voice was the voice he remembered, the gentle but firm tone that he’d looked to so often in his youth. Every facet was borne of a memory in vivid detail, down to her scent; the smell of mulie herb she so coveted; sweet yet lemony all at once. When he had settled a bit he drew back and wiped his eyes, looking at her with something akin to wonder._

_“Are you really here?” he asked._

_She smiled, a bit sadly._

_“For now.”_

_“I…don’t understand.”_

_“Ani, I told you I was proud of you” she said softly. “And I am, but I didn’t tell you why…I didn’t have time.” She took one of his hands and flipped it over, tracing his palm in an achingly familiar gesture from so long ago. “You have protected the Galaxy against one of the greatest threats it ever faced, you became a Knight…just like I knew you would. You are truthful, loyal, and incredibly passionate. Not only that but you have proven to be a fiercely loving partner…and I know you will be the most wonderful father.”_

_He swallowed._

_“Mom, I promise…I will try my best to be a better Jedi…one that won’t succumb to temptation like I did with Palpatine.”_

_“Oh, Ani. You didn’t fail with the Sith Lord, you are only human, and humans make mistakes.” She patted his hand. “And now, you have to accept that your time as a Jedi is over. It is time for you to be a husband and a parent.”_

_“But-”_

_He stopped abruptly as the flap to the hut rustled, reaching instinctively for his lightsaber only to realize that it wasn’t there. As he watched, one of the Sand People wandered into the tent…once again not acknowledging him, preferring instead to approach Shmi. She remained calm with a serene smile, picking up the bowl of water and offering it to the creature. It took a long drink, though Anakin noticed that no matter how much was consumed, the bowl still remained mostly full. Once finished, he or she bowed and left the tent without a single word. Baffled, Anakin turned and looked at his mother for an explanation._

_“You killed them” she said gently, and there was no accusation in her voice. “The Sand People don’t believe in prosecuting the action...but the reason behind it. You may have wiped them from the dunes...but I am the reason you did.”_

_“And you’re okay with that?!” he demanded._

_Again she smiled, and again it was achingly sweet._

_“I raised you to be strong, to protect that which was yours and to love that which you valued. Almost everything I taught you goes against what the Jedi attempted to instill in your mind. A boy cannot be blamed for loving his mother, just as the Sand People cannot all be blamed for what brought upon my death. I’m not doing this because they forced me to, you know as well as I do that the Force would never allow that.”_

_The animal-hide flap rustled again, and this time a much smaller Tusken came through, wobbling on unsteady legs. It was a child-Anakin realized-and his heart clenched painfully. Crooning softly, Shmi gently caught the ‘toddler’ before it fell and procured a small but beautiful jar from her back pocket. In it was a deep gold liquid the color of honey. Dipping her finger in it, his mother held her it out for the baby raider to suck and it complied...its eyes drooping soon after as it fell into slumber. It was strange, to watch her care for a species he had vehemently hated for so many years. Padme hadn’t approved of his actions following the tragedy, and he’d never really gotten around to explaining it; other than his terrible, grief-stricken rant next to Cliegg’s shifter. He’d frightened her. Even though she tried her best to comfort him, he knew he’d terrified her, and he’d regretted it for years but never addressed it, fearing that he would shatter their friendship even further by bringing it up again. A few moments later, another Tusken-presumably its mother-entered the hut and spirited it away. Once they had gone Shmi cupped his cheek once more._

_“I am content here, I belong here. But you do not.” Distantly, as if brought on the very edges of the furthermost gust of wind...a voice reached Anakin’s ears. It was softly accented...slow, sweet and rich like chocolate. Obi-Wan’s voice called his name across the vastness of the lifestream, infused with a love that had carried him...buoyant and hopeful since he was barely a decade old. With it came the sudden reintroduction to his children, their Signatures vibrant...wondrous...and once again he was heavy with child. Shmi leaned forward to place her hand on his stomach, and her face was alight with a joy he rarely saw. “I am so proud of you” she said, and the laughter in her voice seemed to echo across his mind. “They’re beautiful.”_

_Like sand through a sieve...the scene around him was dissolving. The bowl beside his mother vanished, and the water in it fell to the floor...only to drip down into a distant nothingness. A hut that was the site of so much grief and anger seemed to melt like candle wax; the walls coagulating into a mess of indistinguishable color, and the sounds of the camp outside became fuzzy and muted...until they faded away completely. Darkness began to close in on all sides...like a velveteen blanket of onyx pressing towards them with a slow yet determined march. Soon, it was only Anakin and Shmi...together at the end just as they had been at his beginning. The Force swirled around them; invisible but incredibly tangible. When she had died, the tears he’d shed were bitter and angry...but now the wetness on his cheeks was that of acceptance and gratefulness. He was aware of a familiar presence behind him, waiting with its usual stoic patience, but he didn’t turn around just yet._

_“I love you” his mother whispered, her form losing its solidity. “You are, and will always be, my beautiful baby boy.” He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head and pressed a translucent finger to his lips. “Ani, it’s time for you to go home.”_

_Strong fingers gently grasped Anakin’s shoulders in a loving, solid embrace. There was the rough scratch of a beard against his cheek...the soft smell of cinnamon._

_“Anakin” Obi-Wan murmured._

_He swallowed and closed his eyes briefly, letting the tear that slipped out upon opening them once more trail across his lips...which curved into a tremulous smile._

_“I love you mom.”_

_She smiled again; and her eyes spoke of nothing but happiness. A light seemed to grow around her...brighter and brighter ‘till he could do nothing but press his face into the roughness of Obi-Wan’s cloak. When he looked back again, she was gone…and he was falling…_

_...to where he knew he belonged._

__________________________________________________________________________

 

To Obi-Wan’s relief, locating Anakin’s Signature was not hard. 

 

He hadn’t gone far...indeed, he seemed to have chosen only to hover slightly above himself; a bright curl of blue and green effervescence, silent yet somehow resilient. Coming into contact with him was like running his fingers through an invisible, liquid warmth; argan and water...slow, familiar, and deep. Immediately, he understood Luminara’s warning of becoming lost. Anakin’s raw lifestream was enchanting, recognizable yet primal. He was alive in a way the living were not, and yet dead in a way those who truly gone on had surpassed. Obi-Wan forced himself to concentrate, to ignore the siren song that was every part of his lover’s essence to forge onward. Finding Anakin’s vital consciousness was another matter entirely. He began with things that he enjoyed, such as podracing, flying, and even sex...but his former apprentice was nowhere to be found. The memories in such areas were vivid and incredibly detailed, Anakin’s view of the world was truly singular. He observed with the intent to appreciate, even in the worst of situations...there was a rampant positivity to his spirit that was uplifting and somewhat humbling. Next, he searched through concepts of their relationship; of when they first met, his training, and their subsequent romance. Again, he encountered stunning vividness and even more happiness, but Anakin was not there. He began to lose hope when he failed to find him in the area that pertained to the twins, but an idea occurred to him that he cursed himself for not considering earlier. Steeling himself, Obi-Wan turned his psychic gaze to that of Shmi Skywalker...and the results were immediate. Anakin’s consciousness was a blaze across his mind, and when he reached for it, they collided. 

 

It would be a lie to say that seeing his lover’s long-dead mother again wasn’t a shock. He had always thought Shmi to be singularly beautiful, in her own way. She was strong, determined, and very traditional...something that Obi-Wan supposed that he himself shared. He’d expected Anakin to be an emotional mess, but he was strangely calm and accepting. The young man looked upon his mother with the adoration that only a child can have for their mother. He almost felt out of place, as if he was intruding. At the same time, he could feel a peace in Anakin that he hadn’t sensed in a long, long time. Whatever had been said had brought him a closure he desperately needed. When Anakin began to cry he couldn’t help but call out for him, stretching his mental capacities to the limit and rejoicing when his former apprentice heard him. And as the scene around them began to bleed away, he stepped forward to take the place that Shmi would soon vacate...feeling Anakin’s awareness and affection for him like a balm to his weary soul. 

 

Upon returning to the land of the living, Obi-Wan gasped and shielded his eyes against the harsh medical lights. Despite the fact that they had been dimmed, his time spent in the soft, floating darkness of the Force left his gaze incredibly sensitive. Beside him, Anakin began to stir, his organic hand twitching slightly before curling into a fist and opening back up again. He rose as those gold-dusted lashes began to flutter, finally opening to reveal that familiar cerulean hue. Anakin’s eyes registered him, but immediately flickered downwards, and his leather-sheathed hand rose to slide forward from under him, cupping his belly protectively. Relief flashed across his features, along with fear, apprehension, joy, and regret. 

 

“B’nout long?” he murmured, returning his gaze to Obi-Wan. 

 

Whatever control had been reigning him in abruptly shattered. He raised trembling hands to Anakin’s face and cupped it gently, bending over so his forehead touched Anakin’s. His mouth pressed against a soft cheek, not really kissing, but _breathing_ that familiar scent. The Bond between them thrummed with happiness as aqueous salinity met dermis...ragged breaths for slow, controlled ones. 

 

“My love” Obi-Wan whispered. 

 

Slowly, a gentle hand came up to card through his hair, and he closed his eyes contentedly. 

 

“M’sorry...I...couldn’t hide them...I didn’t fight properly.”

 

“Oh, Anakin” he half laughed, half sobbed. “I don’t give a damn about that. I am so proud of you, so, so proud.”

 

At that, the hand in his hair trembled slightly, and he pretended not to notice the raggedness in the breath against his cheek.

 

“...You’re not gonna leave me, are you?”

 

“....Never, Anakin, _never_...

 

…..The day I left you would be the day I abandoned myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter had one part happiness and another crushing melancholy. I actually didn't think it was going to even hit the word count that it did, 3.5k is generally my average, but for some reason this story's chapters just go beyond that all the time. I really, truly hope you enjoyed this installment...as I worked very hard on the imagery and description. Thanks for Reading!


	9. All Things Enlightened

Forcemerging-as it turned out-was an exhaustive feat.

After his stupidly emotional reunion with Obi-Wan, Anakin promptly fell asleep and stayed that way for twelve hours. Bringing consciousness back to the body was one thing; reattaching a psychic Signature was quite another. For once in his life, he didn’t dream...utterly abandoned to the throes of extreme fatigue. He woke disoriented and - somewhat unsurprisingly-rather starving. The lights in the room seemed to want to burn holes through his eyelids and he was reluctant to open them. There was the soft hum of voices to his left, one that he immediately recognized as Obi-Wan’s, and the other the soft nuances of Master Luminara’s vocal patterns. They were speaking quietly but hurriedly, and though he couldn’t pick up on their words, there was somewhat of an urgency to their speech that was hard to ignore. Running his tongue over hairy teeth, Anakin grimaced in disgust and lifted himself onto his left elbow; running a hand through his hair. One of the twins decided to pummel his bladder, reminding him that he needed to take a piss...urgently. Taking a few more moments to gather his bearings, Anakin slid his legs over the side of the bed; at the same time lifting his torso so he ended up in an upright position with his feet on the floor. Testing his balance, he determined that yes, he could still make it to the ‘fresher on his own. His body was hungry and stiff from being immobile for so long, but he wasn't helpless.

Obi-Wan sent an affectionate push across their Bond as he stumbled past him to the ‘fresher, but otherwise continued to speak with Luminara. The room in question had obviously been stocked for patient needs. A standard toothbrush with military-grade paste was in a cup next to the sink, and a towel and washcloth was resting on a stand next to the shower. Once he'd relieved himself, Anakin decided a wash and a shave couldn't hurt, and he spent several minutes under the spray of hot water before he toweled himself dry and eventually found a razor with shaving cream. Both his robes and another set of hospital attire had been laid out, someone obviously wanting to give him the choice of what he'd rather wear. In the end, he pulled on his Jedi garb, seeing as he didn't particularly feel sick and he wasn't injured in any way. Exiting the ‘fresher found him alone in the room, but there was a tray of food on the table next to the bed-porridge and fruit by the look of it-and a glass of what smelled like vegetable juice. There were two pills resting next to all of it, further inspection proved them to be prenatal vitamins...good ones at that, not the kind that Obi-Wan had been surreptitiously sneaking him. A holopad on the nightstand held a hurriedly stylised missive, stating that his former Master had gone to speak with Master Yoda but he'd be back as soon as possible. Under this in parenthesis were the words _’the twins are fine. Boy and girl.’_ As if on cue, one of them rolled happily and his stomach growled. Smiling absentmindedly, Anakin sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the bowl of oatmeal. 

Strangely, he wasn't apprehensive of the fact that the Council would likely soon call on them for an explanation. Just a day before, the prospect of such a confrontation would have terrified him, but he felt oddly at peace with whatever might happen. His conversation with his mother had brought him closure; closure for something he hadn't known he needed. It was as if he'd been walking around with a gaping wound, utterly oblivious of its degradation...his psychic flesh festering ‘till even the brinks of Oblivion were a familiar, disregarded presence. Shmi reached him in a way no one else could...in a maternal way. No matter the future, he was forgiven, he _wasn't_ evil, and he was loved. If there was anything he regretted it was the fact he hadn't taken Obi-Wan’s advice and told the Council while their secret was safe. Now they were caught in guilt, with no outward confession to bolster their honor. Anakin had dealt with the derisive stares of the Order since he first set foot in the Temple...being something shameful and strange wasn't new to him...but Obi-Wan was a different story. Taking a tentative sip of the vegetable juice, Anakin narrowed his eyes. It was possible that he could simply say that he didn't know who the father was. If Obi-Wan hadn't laid claim to paternity, he could spare him the humiliation.

The door to the room opened and shut just as Anakin was finishing up the last of his breakfast and handing his dishes to a service droid. The machine in question beeped its thanks and trundled out, giving Obi-Wan and Luminara ample berth so they wouldn't trip. Immediately, his former Master came to sit beside him on the bed, taking his organic hand and threading his fingers through it. Anakin stiffened and glanced apprehensively at Luminara, who smiled and stepped forward to take his vitals. Both men were silent through the process, Obi-Wan’s thumb stroking over his palm a soft thrum of comfort.   
“You’re all set” Luminara commented, dropping Anakin’s wrist and briefly grasping his chin to tilt his head from side to side. “Everything checks out, but you may experience muscle spasms for some time. Force Lightning plays havoc on the nervous system. The twins shouldn't have any ill-effects, they were heavily sheltered by other vital organs. If you experience seizures, Obi-Wan knows to bring you straight back.” She sat back and pursed her lips. “...The Council wants to speak with you as soon as possible.”

“...Now?” Anakin asked incredulously.

“Yes” was the short reply. “Your situation is...complicated, I'm afraid.” 

“I wish you'd just tell us” Obi-Wan commented tiredly. 

Anakin glanced at him in surprise. 

“You don't know?”

“I impregnated a Jedi Knight” was the dry reply. “I was dismissed from the Council yesterday evening.”

Anakin sagged and put his head in his hands.

“I’m… _so_ sorry” he whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“Anakin, you're not your mother. The Force didn't throw two infants into your body and implant them with my DNA...and you certainly didn't assault me in my sleep.”

“You could say I got you drunk and dressed up as a Twi'lek dancer” Anakin muttered, still not lifting his head.

Obi-Wan let out a bark of laughter.

“Anakin...the day you conceived we were on a Starfighter commandeering a mission to intercept a pirating operation.” He smiled as the young man looked at him questioningly. “I did the math and checked the logs. Moreover, alcohol isn't allowed during combative operations. I was stone sober when I took you, and I think Cody and Rex would have noticed if their Commander was so inebriated he couldn't tell his fellow Jedi from a barfly....you know it, I know it, and the Council will know it too.” He raised an eyebrow. “And you would make a terrible show performer, I've seen you dance...it's not something you forget.”

“Yeah, well, your rendition of the Bespinian Shuffle ain’t so hot either.”

“Off the record” Luminara commented. “Half the Council already knew about the two of you.” She laughed quietly at their stunned expressions. “Honestly, you think you can hide that kind of love and devotion from everyone you see on an almost daily basis? Obi-Wan, every time you go on a solo mission Anakin either throws a fit, hops a freighter to follow, or terrorizes the Younglings. And whenever he's gone and you stay behind, you wander around wringing your hands, mumble about all the possible worst-case scenarios, and check your comm every half an hour. On the field you're like a single entity in two bodies. Nobody fights like the two of you...it's just not done.” She stood and switched off the heart monitor. “We could ignore it when it was just the two of you, but our hand has been forced.”

By the time she'd finished, Anakin’s nose had wrinkled in disgust.

“Kriff, Obi-Wan can be a sap, but you make us sound downright _domestic._ ”

“You’re the one who started the ‘couples dinners’ and the ‘meeting up for luncheon’ and the ‘tea and biscuits’ and _’Obi-Wan if you eat those sorli grapes without me you don't love me’_ malarkey” the older man groused.

“Oh man, and you accuse _me_ of being bad at imitating…”

“Oh, sorry, I meant _’Obi-Wan if you eat those karking sorli grapes without me you don't fucking love my glorious, self-absorbed ass-!’_ ”

“-Now wait just a minu-”

_“Gentlemen”_ Luminara said sharply. “Do you understand what I just said?”

The two Jedi glanced embarrassedly at each other. 

“We understand” Obi-Wan said calmly. 

She nodded and there was a moment of apprehensive silence between them before they slowly stood and began to make their way out of the medical halls. Luminara explained that while it was unusual for a full Council to sit on cases of immorality, it wasn't unheard of. 

“You’re not the first Master-Padawan relationship to have crossed the lines of proprietary” she said wryly at their bewildered expressions. “Mind you, you're still only the second….but it's happened before.”

“But...Obi-Wan and I only, ah, got together after I became a Knight” Anakin commented, watching as Luminara keyed in the lift. 

At his statement, she paused and looked surprised.

“You didn't mention that during your dismissal” she said sharply, looking at Obi-Wan.

“You didn't ask” he replied, following her into the elevator. “Does it make a difference?”

“Yes” she said, her voice slightly shaky. “Yes, the fact that you and Anakin weren't sexually active when he was a minor makes a _massive_ difference.” 

“What?!” Anakin snapped, losing his patience. “You’re telling us the Council assumed that Obi-Wan was a _pedophile?_ ”

Luminara looked uncomfortable.

“The past case I mentioned...the relationship between the Master and Padawan began when the Apprentice was fifteen.” She took a deep breath and looked away. “The Master was forty.” 

“You know what?” Anakin said, throwing decorum to the wind. “I'm gonna be glad to leave this shithole. If that's what they assume of their most loyal members...they can kiss my ass.”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan admonished. 

Even with his rebuke, Anakin didn't miss the pain that flickered across his former Master's features and through the Bond. The fact that the Council had assumed that of him _hurt_ , and by the time they reached the Council Chambers, he was practically seeing red. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed not to start shouting the minute they stepped into the circular room, and he took the chair they offered him with only the slightest nod of thanks. 

“The Council would like to hear your account of your relationship with former Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi” Mace said coldly.

Anakin almost threw up.

_”Former?”_ he choked, glancing over at the aforementioned man, who would not meet his eyes. 

“Dismissed from the Order, he has been” Yoda replied, with slightly more sympathy than Windu. “Understand why, you should.”

“First of all” Anakin snapped. “I pursued Obi-Wan-” he stopped and took several deep breaths as a cramp passed through him. “-For _years_ I tried to get him to notice me. He ignored me, and when I tried to push him on it, he punched me for it.” 

“That black eye” Voss said suddenly. “The one you said you got from an angry vendor.”

Surprised by Quinlan’s contribution, Anakin floundered for a second before nodding. 

“Yea, that was Obi-Wan.” 

Luminara snorted, earning her a dark look from Mace. 

“We only started...getting physical when I was around nineteen” Anakin continued. “I...I got him drunk and-” he swallowed. “We just...kept going from there.” He took a ragged breath. “This-” he muttered, gesturing to his middle. “-It wasn't planned by either of us. I didn't know I was a Carrier...though a lot makes sense now that I do.” He looked squarely at Mace Windu. “You were right about my inability to be a Jedi...I'm not built for it, even if I didn't know why at the time. I've taken one of your best Masters and turned him against the Code. If anyone deserves to be punished, it's me.”

There was a stunned silence in the room after his declaration, and he felt a certain amount of perverse satisfaction. Whatever they'd expected, they'd certainly not counted on him being humble.

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan said softly, his voice thick with emotion. 

“-Since the minute you stepped into this Temple, I knew your journey as a Jedi was never going to end in enlightenment” Mace said tonelessly. “Qui-Gon was blind to the dangers of training you, and Obi-Wan was too young.” 

“Now wait just a minute-” Obi-Wan cut in, but stopped abruptly as Yoda held up a hand. 

“-Nevertheless, the Council also acknowledges the great service you have done to the Order...considerably more than most Jedi accomplish in a lifetime.”

“I've only gotten this far because of Obi-Wan” Anakin said quietly. “I don't know how I'd have turned out with a different Master...but it was the thought of Obi-Wan that pulled me back from the Dark Side.” 

“Too hasty we were, dismissing him from the Order” Yoda said gravely. “Assumed things, we did. Regret them, we do. However, allow you to remain Jedi, we cannot.”

“The Order’s been around longer than any of us” Anakin replied. “I'm not gonna sit here and pretend like I'm worthy of staying in it just because I'm the Chosen One, or because I've done a lot.” 

“Dismissed from the Order, you both are” Yoda said quietly. “However, treat this as your public resignation, we will. Arranged for transport out of Coruscant we have.”

“Both of you have brought great honor to the Jedi name” Windu added. “We will never forget that, and your legacies will not be sullied simply because you could not adhere to our rules. Should you choose to have your children trained in the ways of the Force, we would be honored to instruct them.” He gestured dismissively, and Anakin hastened to stand. “Your shuttle leaves at 0800 tomorrow morning. I suggest you say your goodbyes before then. May the Force be with both of you.” 

“What about Ahsoka?” Anakin blurted. 

Windu raised a brow.

“Padawan Tano will be assigned to a new Master” he said calmly. “...And perhaps she will be better for it.”

He hesitated for a moment, torn between relief that his padawan would have a new Master, and anger at Mace’s insinuation that he had been a poor one. Nodding jerkily, he bowed and began to follow Obi-Wan out of the room. However, once he reached the doors, he turned back.

“You’re wrong you know” he said quietly, smirking as Mace Windu’s eyebrows practically collided with his forehead. “I've been loved here, I've learned loyalty and patience here. I know what it's like to betray and be betrayed, to forgive and be forgiven.” He smiled. “So, in a way, I did find enlightenment...just not in the manner you were hoping for.”

He turned without waiting for an answer only to nearly collide with Obi-Wan, who was looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the galaxy-which was such a ridiculous fucking way to look-and he was taken off-guard when he kissed him in full view of the Council. Neither of them looked back as they passed through those massive doors for the last time hand in hand, and for once, Anakin felt at peace.

____________________________________________________________

They didn't speak on the way back to their quarters.

It seemed a mutual agreement, to walk the halls they had traversed as members of the Order in silence. The Temple was mostly empty, most of the Jedi had gone to flush out the last pockets of the Separatist Resistance. The war had been difficult for everyone, but Obi-Wan felt especially bad for the Clones. They’d been bred specifically for defense, and now they’d likely be shipped back to Kamino to do endless drills and wait for the next crisis. Had he remained in the Order, he might have been able to do something for them, but now he was little more than a Galactic citizen. Unless someone like Bail gave him a foot up in politics, his input on military matters was now next to nil. The truth of the matter was that they’d have little time for worrying about anything soon. By the time the twins were born they would need to be settled and firmly employed. In some ways, he was grateful that they’d been caught before the birth. Now they had time to decide on a destination and a financial plan. He had a feeling they’d be picking a place rather off-the-grid, and the more planning they did ahead of time the better. A ripple of sadness passed through Obi-Wan as they stepped into their shared quarters. It was obvious the Order had sent people in to clear it of their belongings. The only things that remained were their sleeping couches and the dining table. Whatever the fruition of the conversation that morning...it was clear the Council wanted them gone. 

He watched with a nostalgic kind of fondness as Anakin shed his cloak over a chair and walked to the window, the soft glow from the midday sun illuminating his features. They’d lived there...preserved there for so long. These had been their rooms ever since Qui-Gon died...leaving them behind would be hard. Still, he was fairly sure that neither of them truly wanted to be Jedi anymore. Anakin had fought fiercely against the idea at first, having known nothing else for the majority of his life. Even Obi-Wan had struggled with the concept of leaving everything his life had consisted of since the age of three. He was apprehensive of the unknowns...of the concept of being unattached to vows and duty. But then Anakin’s bump began to swell and the reality of their situation gained more clarity by the month. 

“I can hear you thinking from over here” Anakin commented, and Obi-Wan raised a cynical brow.

“It’s not kind to plagiarise” he said loftily, slipping off his boots and striding over to stand next to his former padawan. 

“Mmm” Anakin murmured, nudging his shoulder and brushing their noses together. “Did you know I used to write most of my reports using phrases you’d say?”

Breathing in the familiar, now heavily maternal scent that was Anakin’s, Obi-Wan sighed then laughed softly.

“I always thought that was just a rumor.”

“Nah. I dictated our entire mission stopping off on Bespin in _‘Obi-Wan-Hand.’_

“Was that the one that went _’By the stars drive slower! Please don't fly any lower! You’ll be the death of me I swear! Sometimes I think you don't care!’_?”

“Yep” Anakin chuckled, sliding a slender hand across Obi-Wan’s beard. “We were there for five minutes refueling and they wanted a report so I gave it to them.” 

“Kit read it aloud to the whole Council” Obi-Wan complained. “I thought Quinlan was going to die laughing.” He sobered. “Anakin...you didn't have to say what you did today. You took responsibility in an area most would rather give blame. I'm proud of you.”

“Well, I wasn't gonna let the Council think _you_ seduced _me_...they’d never have bought that.”

“Oh? Are you saying I'm an inadequate lover?”

Anakin drew him in for a deep kiss and he reciprocated gently, nipping at his lower lip before opening his mouth so their tongues could meet. 

“Absolutely not” was the slightly breathless response. “But if I’d sat around and waited for you to make a move we’d never have gotten anywhere.”

It was slow, warm and weighted with meaning, but nothing like their usual blaze of passion. Anakin’s condition had forced them to slow down, to savor more than rush. As he threaded his fingers through honey-colored locks, Obi-Wan reflected that this would be the first time they made love without constraints...without the fear of being caught hanging over their heads. He shivered slightly as leather-clad fingers pushed his cloak from his shoulders so it could pool around his feet. He caught the smoulder in Anakin’s gaze as they broke away for a moment, that haze shielding cerulean irises in a shimmering film...water phantoms against heated sand. Tatooine was in his blood; in the golden sweep of his flesh to his slender but powerful fingers; the illusory power of an oasis caught on the first inhale of an imminent storm. A low, heady groan fell from Anakin’s lips as Obi-Wan caught his tongue and sucked idly, his hips rutting up of their own accord. A large palm gently cupped him through his pants and Obi-Wan’s breath hitched, his arousal aching as familiar fingers groped him artfully. 

It wasn't long before they were shedding clothes, though they stopped every so often to draw attention to specific erogenous zones...unhurried and prurient. Obi-Wan took position at the end of the sleeping couch pressed against the wall, leaning back and watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Anakin settled on his lap. Hot breath ghosted over his neck as Obi-Wan laved a coral-colored nipple….slightly darker now...the aureoles flushed and widened. A warm tongue teased the inner shell of his ear, swiping teasingly before nipping at the lobe.   
Their hips began to work in tandem, mimicking the act they had yet to complete. Breath grew ragged as clothed erections were freed to grasp in shaking hands. Pre-come beaded between their fingers and Anakin threw back his head and whined. Obi-Wan smiled and gently leaned forward to tip the younger man back onto the mattress. Acquiescence was easily attained and he mouthed tenderly against the curve of his stomach as his fingers dipped to brush the moisture between his legs. Anakin was wet, incredibly so, and he blushed and turned his cheek into the pillow in a rare show of shyness ‘till Obi-Wan coaxed him back.

“You’re beautiful” he murmured, allowing his index finger to gently breach the first ring ring of muscles. “Don't hide yourself.” 

Cerise lips parted in a soundless exclamation of lust as he began to work Anakin open. It was less of a task now, but he still liked to be thorough. With the addition of a second finger, the lithe body beneath him arched and began to work itself back into his thrusts. Anakin was as open and honest during their lovemaking as he was in everyday life. His responses were nothing but verity; languorous, hungry and giving all at once. A hand skimming down his side gave him pause, Obi-Wan smiled and bent to kiss the inside of creamy thigh, hot and open-mouthed. By the time he had three fingers stretching him, Anakin had had enough; batting his hand away impatiently and rolling onto his side. A long, lithe arm urged him upwards and Obi-Wan sucked at the crook of a graceful neck before arching his hips to get a good angle. His breath caught in a ragged inhale as he was slowly enveloped in soft, yielding warmth. A low whine spilled from Anakin’s lips and he watched as dextrous fingers bunched in the coverlets. 

Obi-Wan set a soft, unhurried rhythm...kissing the column of Anakin’s spine as he worked his hips. It was a few minutes before his efforts were reciprocated, a leather-clad hand coming up to grasp the fingers curled over his waist as their bodies undulated. 

“You feel so good” he whispered against the crook of a flushed neck. “Ani-so good.”

“Love.. _hnn_...love your cock” was the slurred response, strung together between lustful moans and mindless babbling.

He rolled his eyes in response to the flagrant vulgarity and thrust deep, brushing against the spot that brought goosebumps to Anakin’s skin….made his toes curl and his Signature flare. Immediately, a debauched groan was his reward...an increase in the abundance of slick around his arousal as Anakin mouthed wordlessly and came with a quiet wail, his organic hand pressed against his lips to stifle the sound. Obi-Wan followed soon after, burying his face in the wealth of curls at the back of Anakin’s neck and moaning softly as his hips stuttered. 

When they moved, it was so they could face each other on the coverlets, shivering with aftershocks and eager to touch...to reassure. Anakin’s eyes were a lazy blue haze of satisfaction, his lips full from kissing as his head lolled against the pillows. He reached forward to lace their hands together and Obi-Wan acquiesced, smiling gently as they were drawn back to rest palm-over-palm on Anakin’s stomach. Already, his Signature was becoming serene and detached with the need to sleep, and he had no desire to stop him.

“Love you” was the hoarse murmur. One of the twins rolled and Obi-Wan laughed softly. 

“I love you too, dear one.”

A soft, bittersweet ache in his chest was prominent as golden lashes fluttered shut, indicating a close in one chapter of their lives and the beginning of another. Whatever they might face, they had each other, and they had their children. The Galaxy would have to look elsewhere for heroes….

...It was time for them to find a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say Obi-Wan’s part of this chapter was written at 3 in the morning....I've proof-read it but I'm so exhausted I may have missed something. Thanks for reading!


	10. Over A Precipice...Into The Stars

The gathering of people on the landing pad was small. 

Casting his gaze over their farewell entourage, Anakin bitterly reflected that perhaps they’d had less friends than he’d originally thought. Vos was there, with an arm linked to Luminara...who was looking rather teary. Master Plo Koon stood a little ways back, but his expression was warm and his stance friendly. Kit Fisto was leaning on the hull of the starcruiser they would be taking talking with Yoda, who was resting on his hoverchair. Ahsoka was a little bit distanced from the rest of them, sitting on a loading crate with her head in her hands. Biting his lip, Anakin acknowledged that it would be hard for her...padawans who transferred Masters often dealt with some amount of alienation from their peers. They’d severed their mind-link the day before...but the pain of it was still there, like a raw wound. For one wild, unfettered moment, Anakin was tempted to rush over and take Ahsoka with them...to grab her hands and pull her onto the ship. Then, abruptly, the feeling was gone...left instead by the realization that he couldn't do that to her, couldn’t do that to the Jedi. As much as he hated the fact that the Council was so dismissive of them, he still respected the Temple enough to spare them the loss of yet another Force-Sensitive. Ahsoka would go with him in an instant, he was sure of it. But she would never truly feel part of their family...and her future would forever be uncertain. 

The ‘resignation’ of the Galaxy’s ‘dream team’ was all over the news by morning. Whatever the Temple had done to cover up the scandal was absolutely concrete. The public was under the unerringly solid impression that the two war heroes had seceded from the Order to pursue civilian life. There was no mention of their romance or of the pregnancy. In some ways, Anakin was grateful. The kind of PR nightmare that came with such news caused media firestorms that lasted for years. Neither of them wanted publicity...they’d had enough of that during the war. On the other hand, the lengths the Council had gone to preserve their celibate reputation irked him to no end. It was common knowledge that this wasn't being done for their own well-being, but for that of the Jedi overall. There was nothing generous or appreciative to anything going on around them...it was all a mask to cover up the true verity of the situation. 

Saying goodbye was like standing on the edge of a precipice. Each word he spoke pushed him closer to departure, away from familiarity, away from routine. It was a slow descent into the unknown, into a future that was entirely uncertain. His former comrades-in-arms kept their words brief. Kit clapped him on the shoulder and wished him luck, Plo Koon had something philosophical to say, and both Vos and Luminara hugged him before stepping back so Master Yoda could float through. 

“Have something for you, I do” he said gruffly, pulling a small holocron from his pocket. Anakin took it and turned it about so he could see the label. His breath caught as he read the bold holographic lettering ; _The Origin Of Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker, his ascension into Knighthood, and his defeat of the Sith Lord._ He looked questioningly at Yoda, who smiled kindly and wiggled his ears. “A copy this is, I'm afraid. Remain in the Archives, the original will.”

“I...don't understand.”

“Hmmm, passed your Trial of the Spirit you have, when you defeated Palpatine. A General in the Clone Wars, you were.” He patted Anakin’s hand. “Hard on you we were, but knew your potential, some of us did. Fulfilled the Prophecy, you have. Proud of you, I am.”

Anakin was not ashamed to say there was a moment in his life where he completely lost his head and hugged the Grand Master. He very nearly knocked him out of his hoverchair before realizing what he'd done and stepping back to apologize profusely. Instead of looking upset, Yoda looked sad, and somewhat regretful...as if only at that moment realizing how very few times Anakin had heard those words. They exchanged traditional farewells and before long the only people left on the tarmac besides him were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. She stood when Anakin approached, her hands shaking slightly before she tucked them to her sides. 

“Hey Snips” Anakin said quietly. 

Dark lips trembled a moment before she made an obviously valiant effort to steele her emotions.

“If you don't send me pictures of those twins you better bet I'm gonna hop a freighter and kick your ass.” 

He smirked, though the gesture was marred by the ache in his chest.

“Language, padawan” 

“Not anymore” she whispered.

“It’s gonna be okay kid” he said roughly. 

“You don't know that” she snapped, an angry tear sliding down her cheek. 

“Yeah I do” he said firmly, drawing her into a hug. “You're smart, Ahsoka. You follow the rules and you're a tactical thinker. I'm unpredictable...I get angry and reckless and I hold grudges. You don't need that in your life.”

“Yeah, but you're cool” she mumbled into his shirtfront. “None of the other Masters are cool.”

He laughed.

“Not even Obi-Wan?” he chuckled, watching as the aforementioned man looked their way at the sound of his name, an eyebrow raised. 

“Obi-Wan is basically you with a muffler and good table manners” she groused. “Besides, he's leaving too.”

“Have they assigned you to anyone yet?”

“Master Fisto” she said, and he didn't miss the apprehension in her voice. 

“You’ll like him” Obi-Wan commented, having approached them while Ahsoka was speaking. “Kit is a singular Jedi. I think you’ll find him well suited to you.” 

Anakin released his former padawan, and he watched with mild amusement as Ahsoka pulled Obi-Wan into a rather awkward hug. 

“If you don't take care of Skyguy, he's got my commlink.”

The former Master chuckled as they released each other.

“I'll be sure to remember that” he replied patting her head. 

With a final smile to Ahsoka-who was once again reigning her emotions in with an iron fist-Anakin let Obi-Wan grasp his shoulder and gently steer him towards the starcruiser. 

_“Wait!”_

Turning, all three of them watched in somewhat bewildered astonishment as Padme stomped up the landing pad, a harried-looking Palo behind her directing a massive luggage pod. She stopped within three feet of Anakin and Obi-Wan with her hands on her hips-an effect that was greatly lessened in its severity by her rather prominent baby bump-and raised her eyebrows as if waiting for an explanation.

“It appears you are going somewhere” Obi-Wan commented unhelpfully. 

“Uh, look Padme” Anakin stammered. “I was gonna comm you and we were going to stop by before we left but this happened really fast.” 

“I'm coming with you” the Senator declared imperiously, and began to make her way up the exit ramp. 

“Senator Amidala-”

“Padme, no- _Padme!-_ ”

“Now listen!” she snapped, turning back around. “The Council is throwing you out with nothing but the clothes on your backs and your lightsabers. We all know that Jedi don't have possessions, and that includes money. I'll be damned to a lothkit if I let you two blunder about in the Galaxy with nowhere to stay and twins on the way.” She looked challengingly between the two of them, her fierce expression daring them to argue. When they didn't, she nodded satisfactorily. “That's settled then, good. Ahsoka, please inform the Council that should the Senate come looking for me, I have vacated my post indefinitely to care for that which they refused to.” 

The Togruta apprentice was grinning from ear to ear as she bowed low.

“Of course, m’lady.” 

“Palo!” Padme shouted, startling Anakin out of his reverie. 

“Yeah! It’s all packed up with their stuff...well...that small box in the back I assume is their stuff.”

“Good.”

With a final toss of her hair, the former Queen of Naboo disappeared into the hull. Obi-Wan cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. 

“It seems we are doomed to escort politicians whether we are Jedi or not” he commented lightly. 

“You’re okay with this?” Anakin asked Palo as he came wandering back from the cargo hold.  
“It’s been this way for about a month” he said in a low voice. 

“Hormones” Obi-Wan commented, nodding sagely. 

Palo glanced nervously at Anakin, as if expecting him to explode. 

“I just...go with the flow, if you know what I mean.” 

“Probably for the best” Anakin sighed, turning to climb the ramp only to realize it was far too steep for him to ascend without a steady hand behind him. “Um, Obi-Wan, could you…?”

He gestured behind himself, and was relieved when his former Master quickly caught on. 

“Oh yes, of course.”

“You’re having two kids right?” Palo queried as he flanked them. 

“Yeah” Anakin commented, stepping up into the hull and moving aside so the others could join him. 

“See, I don't get that” the Senator's husband continued, shaking his head. “How is this city not razed to ruins?”

“Anakin’s been surprisingly mellow through all of this” Obi-Wan supplied, idly pressing the commands to retract the ramp. “...As mellow as you can get out of Anakin anyhow.”

“I'm right here” the younger man grumped. When both men continued to lament over the hardships of expectant fathers, he huffed and left to find Padme. 

The Cruiser in question was simple but streamlined; a soft pearl grey with yellow accents. In the shape of a triangle with a low, sweeping underside; the cockpit was in the front under a glass dome, a few feet higher than the rest of the vessel. It sat two but could accommodate perhaps three or four, the controls able to configure interstellar gps and autopilot if so desired. The hull was nondescript and dipped low; making up the sloped underside of the ship. It was accessed via a hatch just outside the cockpit and ran parallel to the hallway above which branched out into two cabins; each equipped with a single double mattress low to the floor, and a ‘fresher. There was also a simplistic ‘communal’ area at the very back of the ship, with a large window opening up to the vastness of space. There were two couches of a sort-though they resembled bean bags more than anything-and a holoscreen of appreciable size. The entirety of the interior was a sort of effervescent white; and visual screens built into the walls could mimic environmental effects on different planets through sight, sound, and smell. Anakin wanted to take the whole thing apart and put it back together but he resisted the temptation...instead bypassing the sleeping quarters to find Padme sitting in the communal area eating a kiliwi. She smiled at him as he entered and patted the seat next to her, which he took gratefully. For a moment, they sat in silence, and Padme passed him a eeliemelon slice that made his mouth water. 

“Ani, you look exhausted.”

He glanced sideways at her over his melon slice.

“It’s not been exactly smooth sailing for the past week or so” he mumbled. 

“I couldn't believe it when I heard Palpatine was the Sith” she remarked, her eyes widening. “And you faced off against him alone, I can't imagine how scared you were.” 

Anakin grimaced.

“Honestly, it all happened so fast I didn't have the time to be scared” he said slowly. “I just..acted on instinct.” 

“And how do you feel about this whole affair?” she questioned, waving her hand at the ship around them. “About the Council and your dismissals and whatnot?”

“I feel worse for Obi-Wan than I do for myself” he muttered, accepting the napkin Padme passed to him with a nod. “The Council...assumed some horrible things about him.” 

Padme nodded absentmindedly, pouring a cup of kippermint tea and blowing thoughtfully.

“...They thought he'd taken advantage of you at a young age” she murmured. “Or at the very least, that you’d started your relationship when you were a minor.”

“Yeah” Anakin sneered. “Can you believe that?”

She hesitated. 

“I can't imagine what Obi-Wan must have felt...hearing those words from people he thought knew and trusted him.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“...But?”

She fidgeted a moment, a pale blush spreading to her cheeks. 

“Oh Ani, I mean he's basically your _father._ ”

“Not you too” he groaned.

“No, no” she sighed, patting his hand. “I mean think of how it looks from the outside.” She looked seriously at him. “I know and you know that Obi-Wan isn't like that. And I also know you don't have a weird kink for…” she gestured awkwardly and blushed to the tips of her ears. “ _That._ But coming from someone who doesn't know you two well...it looks weird.” 

“I guess I can see that” Anakin replied after a moment. He glanced sideways at her, smirking. “And no, I don't have a Daddy kink if that's what you're insinuating.”

“Ani!” she shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth. “That's more than I _ever_ need to here coming out of your mouth!”

“Didn't you have a crush on an elderly member of the Nabooian Senate?” he asked suspiciously.

“That was different” she huffed. “He was brilliant.”

“Obi-Wan is pretty damn brilliant.”

“He'd have to be, to put up with you for over ten years.” 

“Says the Senator who dragged me across a parsec to save him.”

They laughed amicably for a minute. Padme set her tea down and glanced at the holoscreen for a minute, opening the control panel on the coffee table and selecting a musical channel. Anakin ferried his melon rind to the recycler and sat back down, wincing as one of the twins kicked his spleen. 

“Getting crowded there?” Padme queried, laughing when he grimaced. 

“Sometimes I feel like I'm more baby than Anakin” he grumbled. “You don't look awfully uncomfortable.”

“I'm carrying one, not two” she said cheerfully. “It’s a girl by the way. We still haven't decided on a name.”

“...And you're just gonna hang around ‘till one or both of us gives birth?”

She glanced away for a moment before fussing with her skirt.

“That's something I had an idea about” she said tentatively. “I...I know you and Obi-Wan are looking for a place to live, and I think I may have found a place that you might like.” He raised an eyebrow and she hastened to ruffle through her pocketbook. Settling the tablet she procured between them, she pulled up a picture that appeared to be of a property. It overlooked what seemed to be a desert oasis, surrounded by sand and the occasional palm tree on the banks of the water. The house was large but not extravagant, with a tall dome-like structure sporting homely windows and what looked like the entrance at the very base. The house then extended into what appeared to be a low balconied terrace; with a full view of the water. Behind the building was what appeared to be massive mountain range. 

“I...kinda like it” Anakin said tentatively.

“It’s close to a mechanical shop” Padme supplied eagerly. “And it's equipped with a garage at the back with a fully functional transporter. She flipped through a few series of photos ‘till coming across the one she wanted. “This is the town the property is close to. It's fairly primitive, but the politics are centered around fairness and equality, something the planet desperately needs. Obi-Wan wouldn't find himself for lack of employment.” She pulled up a sizeable chart. “Upkeep costs are fairly low; the house is mostly self-sustaining, barring food. It has your rudimentary security precautions but you can always upgrade. There's no school, but I thought that might be something you could remedy.”

“It kind of seems like we’d be overseeing the whole community” Anakin commented, raising a brow. 

“The owner is a Hutt who managed commerce in the immediate area. He's looking to sell to someone who can keep his policies in place, or at the very least, make better ones.” 

“A Hutt?” he queried suspiciously. 

Padme worried her wedding ring nervously.

“...The property...it's on Tatooine, near the Mospic High Range.” When he continued to look doubtful, she plowed forward. “It’s just...I know how strongly you felt about leaving your mother in a life of slavery when you left to become a Jedi. You always talked about how much you hated Tatooine, but there was so much you mentioned that you seemed to miss. It’s warm there, and the oasis is spring-fed...you can swim in it. The town needs your help to build better political constructs and an education system for its children...Obi-Wan would shine there. You have so much experience dealing with electronics, and they desperately need help reconfiguring monitoring systems and adopting digital trade.” 

“Padme…” Anakin said uncertainly. “Tatooine isn't _safe_. The Raiders-”

“-What happened to your mother was tragic, but the moisture farms are dangerous even on days the Tuskens are hundreds of miles away. I'm sorry, but Cleigg should have known better than to let Shmi rotate the vaporators alone.” 

“You can't assign blame like that” he said sharply. 

“And _you_ won't learn to live unless you let go of your fears” she replied, just as firmly. “There's real opportunity for you there, Ani. I think, deep down, you’ve always known it.” 

There was a tense silence between them as each processed their own thoughts. On one hand, Tatooine was everything he'd spent his life trying to escape. Grief, anger, betrayal, confinement, limitation...all of those things were a figment of his childhood persona. Going back would be like throwing a mantle of pessimistic nostalgia over his shoulders and hoping for the best. Still...Padme’s words were undeniably true. There was a beauty to the sandy planet he'd never really been able to shake. Something about red rocky crags and scorching drifts that stung the soul; haunting, red like fire, melodic like sundown. For years after his departure he'd worried for his friends...for their inevitable futures in servitude to a higher power. A part of him felt unaccountably guilty for his obvious privilege…for his ability to walk away without debt or expectation. Whenever they came across slavery on missions his mood soured as the memories surfaced; the recollection of the smells of a junk shop and the texture of motor oil on flesh...like a scar that never really fades. He'd had it easier than his peers...Watto was-dare he admit it-fairer than he needed to be. While his peers returned bloody and beaten from masters who cared little more for children than for their ability to bleed, it was a rough day if Anakin came home with bruised knuckles. It earned him more than than a little resentment in social circles. He'd seen the pain of slavery as an internalist with partial reprieve; and it put him in the position of wanting to change things. Still...could he do it now? With so many years between his time as a slave and his life as a Jedi? He sighed and worried a thread on his cloak, glancing over at Padme, who was pretending not to be anxiously awaiting his answer by flipping through news’ stations. He laughed and shook his head, wondering how _anyone_ could think he was stubborn when Padme Amidala was Senator. Patting her hand, he smiled wryly when she turned to look at him. 

“...Let's go find Obi-Wan.”

_____________________________________________

Palo was a kindred spirit, as far as expectant fathers were concerned.

Almost immediately, Obi-Wan could tell what Senator Amidala saw in him. Palo was patient, but he wasn't afraid to speak his mind...at the same time remaining polite yet direct. Moving to the cockpit to configure takeoff, they quickly fell into easy conversation.

“I've got to tell you, I admire him” Palo chuckled. “Anakin” he clarified. “Six months pregnant and facing off against a Sith Lord...don't imagine many people can say they’ve done that.”

“He's always been one for singular events” the former Jedi Master agreed. “Though I agree the slaying of Darth Sidious is likely among his greatest achievements.”

“And how are you?” Palo asked, flipping a switch to an overhead cooling unit and craning his neck. 

Obi-Wan frowned, his hand hovering over a stack of flight logs.

“Sorry?”

The younger man glanced down at him, fiddling with a pressure gauge.

“Well...I can't imagine you've had too many people to talk to about the pregnancy” he remarked, tapping the blowout disk. “Has to be hard carrying that kind of knowledge around.”

Obi-Wan hesitated, caught off-guard by the query into his personal feelings. His Jedi training told him he should dismiss his emotions and send them into the Force...but could he still emply Temple tactics when he was no longer a member? Swallowing, he ducked his head and moved to check the chronometer.

“I...Anakin has always been close to my heart” he said quietly. “Even before we met...there was an absence; like the other half of me was missing. My Master always said it was simply instinct...the human drive to seek out and breed...something Jedi learn to suppress.” He laughed, a little bitterly. “Qui-Gon...he thought I was too dangerous...too emotional to train. I had my future set in a mining corp when he took me under his wing. I learned to control my emotions, to suppress them...so when I met Anakin...I didn't see him for who he was.”

“...And what was that?” Palo asked quietly, having lowered himself into the co-pilot’s seat.  
Obi-Wan chuckled and shook his head.

“...You’ll think it's ridiculous.”

“You might be surprised” was the dry response. 

He hesitated again, leaning on the control panel.

“Anakin….healed me, in a way that no one else could. Qui-Gon died and I very nearly fell, but then a little blue eyed boy from Tatooine crawled onto my sleeping couch and cried; told me how sorry he was that I had to teach him...promised that he would be good.” He took a deep breath. “I was terrified of loving him...when he came of age. Already, he was so much a part of me, I feared what would happen should I give in and he find himself uninterested. Yet time and time again he proved my worries unfounded.” He found his eyes slightly misty as he spoke. “I look at him...heavy with our children and I wonder what I've done to deserve this. What a boring, uptight Jedi like me _ever_ did to deserve the love of someone like him.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Then-of course-he blows something up and I wonder how I'll ever survive _three_ of him.” 

“Sounds like love to me” Palo laughed, brushing a wrench off a proximity sensor and fiddling with the knob. 

“I hear you and Padme fell in love rather quickly.”

“I knew she was the one” was the simplistic reply, before a glance revealed a mischievous grin. “Thank goodness she did too.” 

Obi-Wan laughed and they fell into an amicable silence as they finished the system checks. The hum of the ship was lulling, despite his general dislike of flying, and he soon fell into a familiar methodology. It wasn't until some time later that he felt Anakin begin to seek him out through the Bond. Straightening, he threw out a tendril of acknowledgement before turning back to the console in front of him. It wasn't long before the door to the cockpit opened and both his former padawan and Padme came through, looking somewhat anticipatory.

“Obi-Wan, look” Anakin said hurriedly, kneeling with a slight wince so he was on level with the older man’s chair, and pushing a datapadd under his nose. “Padme found a place where we could really do some good. The town needs a school and a commerce system, probably a universal gridlock, digital trade-”

“Anakin- _Anakin slow down_ ” he said breathlessly. “Where is this place?”

The younger man looked nervous for a second, glancing at the Senator, who nodded encouragingly.

“It-It’s on Tatooine…”

Obi-Wan glanced down at the picture on the datapadd, at the oasis flanked by the simplistic but beautiful villa. Yes...he could see why Anakin would pick a place like this; a place where he could help people, and gain friendship in return. It was a trait he had always observed in Anakin, though he was more reserved about it in the Order. Smiling, Obi-Wan cupped Anakin’s cheek and drew him in for a kiss, smiling inwardly as a shudder ran between them...as much anticipatory of the future as it was about pleasure.

“What are we waiting for?” he murmured against soft lips. “Let's go to Tatooine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of just finished this chapter on the fly. Typed it all on my phone whose autocorrect has gone wonky. Going to sleep now. You readers are awesome cookies. :3
> 
> P.S.: idea for the house comes from wookiepedia..Imperial Oasis concept
> 
> Link: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Imperial_Oasis


	11. After The End...At The Apex Of Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan and Anakin talk a lot.

“Quinlan constantly warned me about you.”

Anakin blinked, having almost fallen asleep curled up against Obi-Wan; his head in his lap. They were sitting in the starcruiser   
‘s entertainment lounge with the lights low, Padme and Palo having already gone to bed. There was a holomovie on  
...something obscure and negligible that they'd probably watched already, but neither were really paying attention. Anakin had just taken a shower, and the water made him lazy and somnolent. Obi-Wan was communing with the twins via the Force, fingers splayed across Anakin’s stomach as tendrils of psyche floated between them. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes with one hand, the other covering Obi-Wan’s as he processed what had been said. 

“Yea, I know” he said hoarsely. “...Thought I was crazy or something.”

“Mm...his exact words were _’dangerous, rotten,_ and _vicious._

He frowned at nothing in particular.

“...And did you agree with him?”

Obi-Wan shifted slightly, his finger tracing the delicate imprint of a tiny foot. 

“Did you ever think of yourself that way?”

Anakin worried his lip, running an idle hand through his hair. 

“There were times when I felt...dark. It was an overload y’know. Of power...feeling angry or sad.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “It took me _months_ to work up to kissing you y’know.” 

The hand on his stomach stilled for a moment.

“Why?”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“You don't understand l...I was afraid of you rejecting me.”

“But I did reject you.”

“Yeah. Violently. That's not you Obi-Wan. That's you when you want something you shouldn't. That's why I didn't give up.” He flexed his feet and attempted to sit up, but soon gave it up for a lost cause and flopped back down onto his former Master’s lap. “I think there was a time in my life I could have gone down the wrong path...and I think it was close to when we found out I was pregnant. In a way, this has sorta saved me.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers came up to tangle in his hair.

“I...had misgivings” he admitted. “You were so...individual. By the time you were a teenager, I couldn't see a way of getting you to purge your emotions without erasing you in your entirety. Your personality defined so much of your spirit, and I was at a loss as to how to retain Anakin and bring out the Jedi..”

A silence stretched between them as they considered their thoughts. 

“Why haven't we talked about this before?” Anakin muttered. 

“We didn't have time” was the bitter reply. “Before the war, if we weren't butting heads I was doing my damndest to fend off your attentions. You'd get so defensive when I questioned your actions, it made me throw up shields ‘till I couldn't tell if we hated each other or loved each other to the point of madness. When we finally...got together I think we were both relieved...too relieved to do anything but drown in each other when the opportunity presented itself.”

“I felt like I was always chasing you” Anakin murmured, his eyes growing heavy again. “I wanted to be every part the Jedi you were, but I also wanted you.”

“You have me now.”

“...Yeah, but why? Would we still be together if it wasn't because of the twins?”

Obi-Wan huffed.

“...If you really must know, I was planning on telling the Council about us around the time we learned of their existence.”

This got Anakin’s attention.

“What? Why?!”

“Because we were breaking the Code, Anakin. Frequently. Willingly. I was getting lost in us...becoming less of a Jedi and more of an individual with feelings, selfishness, and desires. By the time we found out about the pregnancy, I already knew I cared more for you than I did for the Order.”

“...Then why did I always feel like I was trying to pull you in with a tether?”

“Because I wanted you to have a choice” Obi-Wan murmured, running a thumb over Anakin’s lips. “Regardless of my disregard for the Order, I couldn't take you with me...I couldn't make our relationship the basis for your future.” His former Master paused, seemingly hesitant. “Anakin...since we’ve decided we’re absolutely committed to this...domestic situation….would you consider making it official?”

The younger man raised a sardonic brow. 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that” he replied dryly “M’not following.”

Obi-Wan flushed and swallowed. 

“Would you...legally bind our relationship?”

Anakin stilled as the implications of what was being asked of him became clear.

“Oh, kriff, are you asking me to _marry_ you?!”

The older man coughed to hide his discomfort.

“Well, I-I always knew that if I wasn't going to be a Jedi, I wanted to do the whole..courting process, ah, _properly_...of course it wasn't an option while we were in the Order so I thought-”

“-Oh hell you old traditionalist, shut up” Anakin snorted as he tried and failed not to be utterly enamored of his former Master’s selfless actions, lifting his head to capture Obi-Wan’s mouth, sliding his fingers into soft auburn locks. They kissed distractedly for a few minutes and by the time they broke away, his cheeks felt flushed. That familiar, aching heat was moist between his legs and he shivered unconsciously. “I’ll fucking marry the hell out of you” he whispered raggedly.

Dark eyes watched his reaction with a practiced eye, and he protested only slightly when a hand slipped under the waistband of his pants to trail the tell-tale path of slick back to his arousal. 

“Speaking of the future” Obi-Wan murmured. “I think we should move this to our cabin.”

Anakin grinned salaciously.

“Well then” he purred. “Lead the way… _General_ ”

______________________________________________

It took them a little longer than usual to reach Tatooine.

For one, their pace was leisurely, unlike on speed-oriented missions for the Order that required haste as a necessity. It was inconceivably strange to be in space and not have the threat of an attack or the promise of coming battle breathing down their necks. The Clone Wars had beaten any sense of uneventful starcruising into a bloody mental pulp. Every time an alarm went off Obi-Wan found himself reaching instinctively for his lightsaber...the anticlimactic news of a possible pedestrian course collision leaving his adrenaline with nowhere to go. Normally, he and Anakin might spar, but the younger man was swiftly ending his seventh month and anything combat-related was strictly out of the question. Regardless, Obi-Wan could still find him doing laps of the ship for exercise; though his pace was considerably hindered by the twins. Anakin also refused to forgo stretching and other strength training-related activities despite the advanced stage of his pregnancy. It didn't surprise him, really. His former padawan was used to a rigorous schedule, giving it up left him twiddling his thumbs and there was nothing he hated more.

Obi-Wan hadn't actually considered the fact that asking Anakin to officialize their relationship was synonymous to asking him to marry him. If he'd been thinking straight, he'd have gotten down on one knee and done it right but he'd long ago resigned himself to the fact that they were as far flung from your traditional couple as one could get. He'd have to get rings, of course...they weren't that removed from ritualistic ideals quite yet. Despite the spontaneity of his “proposal’ he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Marriage at his age was practically unheard of, but it was something he'd known he wanted...should his life deviate from the Order. Realistically, Anakin didn't quite see it in the same light; having been raised with the ideals that matrimony was little more than a slip of paper, but he couldn't hold that against him.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as the proximity sensors indicated their ETA to be twenty minutes away. His cloak slipped precariously over one shoulder-dragging his hastily donned tunic with it-and he grimaced before pulling said garments up once again. Everything inconvenient aside, Anakin’s sex drive was through the roof. If Obi-Wan wasn't working on the ship, he was being cornered and hastily disrobed. Whatever the books said about diminished libido during the final months of pregnancy obviously didn't apply to male carriers….or at the very least, Anakin had thoroughly missed the memo. He was pushing forty, and no matter how attractive he found Anakin, his refractory period was that of a normal human male. To remedy this, they'd been forced to get creative...which often involved him delaying his orgasm until his partner was an exhausted but happy mess. 

“Hey, Kenobi- _woah…”_ Unable to raise more than an exhausted eyebrow, Obi-Wan huffed quietly as Palo wolf-whistled at his obviously bedraggled appearance. “You look like you’ve been in a den of Zeltronians.”

“I think I'd be more awake if they were Zeltronians” he muttered. 

“Man” Padme’s husband complained, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat. “You have it good. All mine does is sleep and eat chocolate.” 

“We could trade off” Obi-Wan suggested, only half-joking.

Palo snorted.

“Yeah, I don't think Skywalker would forgive you if you slept with my wife...and I don't go for” he paused and wiggled his fingers. “...Y’know.”

“He's liable to give birth early if we keep this up. The amount of oxytocin in his body must be reaching critical.”

“Twins often come early in any case” was the contemplative reply as the younger man reached up to tap a pressure gauge.   
The door to the cockpit slid open and they ceased their gossip immediately. Padme entered looking like she wanted to burst out laughing, trailed by by a sincerely discomfited Anakin. “There's really not enough room for seven people in here” Palo complained. 

“Oh hush” Padme said, pressing a fond kiss to his forehead. “Ani is...experiencing some developments.”

Panic immediately suffused him, but one glance at his former padawan’s face told him it was nothing so serious as labor. 

“What is it?” he asked gently. 

Anakin proceeded to turn bright red and mumbled something inaudible. Padme giggled and patted his hand.

“It's okay Ani, I've had it for a couple weeks now.”

The younger man grimaced and tugged his hand away so he could cross his arms over his chest. 

“I’ll leave” Palo said hastily, standing and maneuvering his way around the two pregnant passengers. 

“I’m...leaking” Anakin muttered once the door slid shut. 

“Leaking” Obi-Wan said sharply. “Where?” 

It didn't seem possible, but the younger man proceeded to turn even redder, stammering something that sounded like _’kriffing bantha’_ and _’cattle’_.

“Milk” Padme finally supplied, taking pity on him. “He’s producing colostrum.”

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly.

“You’re lactating” he said blankly.

Anakin cursed and stormed out of the cockpit, leaving him to mouth helplessly at the former Queen of Naboo.

“Oh for heaven’s sake” she snapped. “He's having an identity crisis. Go talk to him before he has a meltdown.”

Mumbling a sort of distracted apology-to which she rolled her eyes and waved him away-he stumbled after Anakin’s Signature with the feeling of a horse led to slaughter. Anakin was sitting on the mattress in their cabin plucking at his undertunic, which he could now see sported small patches of moisture in the assumably correct areas.   
He didn't acknowledge Obi-Wan’s entrance, preferring to scrub a hand over his face in what he could only assume was exasperation.

“I...could find some gauze for you to wrap around yourself” Obi-Wan said hesitantly. 

A noncommittal head jerk was the only response he received, and he pulled a medkit from an overhead storage unit. Procuring the gauze, he sat down cross-legged in front of the former Jedi Knight and gently coaxed him to remove his tunic. 

“M’not a chick” Anakin mumbled, raising his arms slightly so Obi-Wan could reach around him. 

Catching the initial end of the wrap and beginning an overall rotation, the older man smiled gently.

“No, you're not” he said calmly. “This is normal, Anakin. The Twins need it to supply essential cognitive nutrients.”

“I don't want two kriffing kids sucking on me like little milk vampires” was the whiplash response. “It’s not like I have… _tits_ anyway. Where the fuck is it coming from?!”

Suppressing a grin, Obi-Wan secured the gauze by tucking it into a fold with a strip of medical tape. 

“Your alveoli are internal” he replied, tucking his supplies back into the medkit and setting it aside. “Male Carriers have partially subverted upper ribs and costochondral joints, along with a partially subverted manubrium and an unusually dense gladiolus....ideally at least. If you didn't have that, then you _would_ have...breasts...but you don't.”

“Do I _have_ to breastfeed?”

Obi-Wan considered his question.

“It’s ultimately your choice” he replied, carding a hand through Anakin’s hair. “Though in order to remain entirely truthful, I will say that studies show swifter cognitive development with infants who are breastfed.” He handed the younger man a spare tunic. “It’s also extremely emotionally beneficial for mother and child.” 

Anakin wrinkled his nose.

“That's another thing” he groused. “Why am I Mom?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“Do you really need to ask me that?”

The younger man opened his mouth to retort when the hiss of the hydraulic stabilizers gave them both pause.

“We’re landing!” was the immediately distracted exclamation. 

“For the record” Obi-Wan commented as he pulled Anakin to his feet. “Nobody said that you _have_ to be referred to as ‘Mom.’” 

The sheepish smile he got in return was reassuring, and he followed him out of the cabin feeling somewhat less concerned. Padme was waiting for them next to the door to the cockpit, and she looked hastily between them, her face softening as she recognized their reconciliation.

“I've gotten the property emptied for our arrival” she said, sounding excited at the prospect. “It needs furniture and the whatnot, but all the utilities are squared away.” She hesitated. “I...didn't think you'd want attendants and the like, so I didn't hire any.”

“You know, you didn't have to buy us an entire estate” Anakin muttered, sounding somewhat disgruntled.

“I didn't spend any credits at all” Padme replied cheerfully l. “Apparently, the Hutt has a great fondness for goods from Naboo...particularly fabrics and tea. I had to call in a few favors, of course, but it didn't cost me a thing. And it's not an estate, it's a house. A proper one with three bedrooms.” The door to the cockpit slid open and Palo appeared, hastening to open the hatch to the hold. “Besides” Padme continued, beginning her descent. “You’ll be more than making up for it with what you’ll be doing for the community.”

Obi-Wan made to follow her when he realized Anakin had gone very still. His Force Signature was thrumming with what appeared to be surprise, and he turned to ascertain the source of his shock, only to freeze. There was a gradually spreading puddle of fluid beneath the younger man’s feet, and his expression was a litany of emotion. Behind him, he heard Padme gasp but he ignored it, keeping his eyes trained on Anakin’s face. Slowly, as if waking from a dream, his former padawan’s gaze rose to meet his; his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“I think…” he said weakly. “I think my water just broke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short. I'm in bad form with this one....but there were some emotional aspects I wanted to clear between Anakin and Obi-Wan, and it'd been a while since I focused on any physical manifestations of the impending end of the pregnancy. So. There you have it. I tend to go overboard with details so I'm sorry if this was a bit much for you.   
> Also, cliffhanger!  
> *grins*


	12. Into the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Birth scene.

To say Obi-Wan was panicking would be an understatement.

His partner-his _fiancee_ -was apparently going into labor nearly a month early. He supposed he shouldn't really be surprised-and what was he _thinking_ taking him to a sparsely inhabited planet at the end of his third trimester??-twins, as Palo had said, often came early. They didn't have a designated doctor, let alone any knowledge where they could get one on this forsaken dustball. Padme had jumped into action seconds after Anakin’s water broke, recognizing the gravidity of the situation for what it was and wasting absolutely no time whatsoever.

“Palo! I need the luggage pod moved to the house stat!” she shouted. “Bring the mattresses from the cabins, 3PO can help you.” Turning, the young woman hastened to aid Obi-Wan, who was trying to get a very pale Anakin down the exit hatch. “You get down to the bottom, I’ll help from up here” she said breathlessly.

The exterior air hit them like a blast from a furnace. Tatooine was in the middle of its dry season, if you could call a planet that was perpetually dry any drier. The house didn't have a landing pad, so they were forced to touch down on the opposite side of the oasis. Up close, it was breathtaking. The water was so incredibly clear you could see straight down to the white sandy bottom. Here and there were small schools of brightly colored fish...though in all reality they shouldn't have been there at all. Paurotis palms were spread in regular intervals along the bank, green fronds utterly still in the arid air. The ground was sandy but densely packed, an off-yellow shade harshly brightened by the blistering sun. The house itself was on higher ground, though the slope up to it was gradual and commanded little effort. The exterior appeared to be made of the typical widely-used pourstone, a light tan in color run smooth by year upon year of sand against surface.

They entered at the base of the dome, which led them into a circular kitchen area. The amenities contoured to the walls, providing for a small but appreciable dining area in the center. Next to the door was a security communicator mounted to the wall along with a small access panel. To the right was a hallway that stretched out from under the dome about fifty feet-with various rooms on either side-before it opened up into a sitting area. Directly across from the door was an alcove through which one could access a narrow staircase that led to the second level. This room was entirely unfurnished save for a soft-carpeted floor and the smell of incense that hung in the air. It was very obviously the Master bedroom, with a sliding door that led to an outside sitting area that spanned overtop the hallway and living room at ground level. The space boasted a full sonic shower, a toilet, and a double sink behind a set of dark wooden doors with heavy metallic handles. To the left was a half-moon window and an air-conditioning unit that Palo was currently fussing with.

 Having nowhere else to put him, Obi-Wan lowered Anakin onto the carpet and pillowed his head with his cloak before hastening to help Padme lug one of the mattresses up the stairs. They set it up under the half-moon window and Padme sent 3PO off to fetch as many towels as he could find from the luggage pod. She then whipped out her padd and began to scroll hastily, her expression growing more frantic as she went.

 “There are no doctors in the immediate area” she said frantically.

 Obi-Wan nearly had a heart attack.

 ”What?!”

 “I mean, I _knew_ that” Padme scrambled to explain. “It was one of the things you were supposed to help the community with. But I’d already sent for mine before we left...she won't get here for another three days.”

 “You sent us into the middle of nowhere, with no kriffing _doctors?!_ ” Anakin yelled.

 “I'm sorry” she said desperately. “I didn't think the twins would come so soon!”

 “Alright, alright” Obi-Wan cut in. “Perhaps this venture wasn't well thought out by any of us.” He looked pointedly at his former padawan. “We are the parents here, not the Senator” he said sternly. “If anyone is at fault, it's us.”

 Anakin opened his mouth as if to argue, but stopped abruptly...rising onto his elbows and groaning, one hand on the swell of his stomach.

 “We don't have time to debate this” Padme said hastily, rushing to aid her friend despite his harsh words. “Ani, let's get your cloak off, you must be burning up.”

 “I've almost got this thing running” Palo said, still crouched in front of the unit. “I don't think it's been turned on in over a decade.”

 “The Hutts like the heat” Anakin muttered, leaning heavily on Padme as Obi-Wan spread towels over the sheets and propped up some pillows.

 He helped Anakin get his boots and socks off, tugging away the tabard, belt, and obi ‘till he was left in nothing but his pants and undertunic. Once he was settled onto the bed, Obi-Wan left Padme to tend to him and rushed over to help her husband with the air conditioner. It took another fifteen minutes or so, but soon cool air was filtering through the room.

 “Alright” Padme said, fluffing the pillows in a very mother-hen-like manner. “I'm going to grab a knife and some water and put it on over the stove. I’ll put some in the cooling unit to cool off in case you get thirsty...ice chips are ideal but I don’t think we’ll have time to fetch any. How far apart are your contractions?”

 “‘Bout fifteen minutes” was the pained response.

 She nodded.

 “We have some time then, but not a lot. Keep counting, if you start to feel like you're losing track, have Obi-Wan take over.”

 Once she'd disappeared down the stairs, Anakin swung his legs over the side of the bed and beckoned for Obi-Wan to help him take his bottoms off.

 “Grab a sheet for me, will you?” he mumbled.

 “Of course” Obi-Wan replied, fetching one from the pile in the corner. He gently coaxed the younger man back onto the bed and sat down next to him. “How do you feel?” he murmured, stroking his cheek.

 “Like I should never let you fuck me ever again” Anakin grumbled.

 The older man laughed and placed a hand over the bump that was the Twins.

 “They don't feel too worried” he said, smiling encouragingly.

 “Yeah, well, they're not the ones getting split in half to bring them into the world” was the irritated response.

 “I'm sorry this is going to be so difficult. We don't have any pain medication...only bacta and disinfectant.”

 “S’not your fault” Anakin muttered, relenting a bit and placing his mechanical hand over Obi-Wan’s. “Besides, I've had my arm cut off, how much worse can this be?”

 Obi-Wan bit the doubtful response that immediately jumped to the tip of his tongue, preferring instead to pat Anakin’s hand reassuringly. At that moment, Padme returned carrying a large pot of steaming water, followed closely by Palo with an armful of towels. She set them down next to the bed and grasped Anakin’s wrist, flipping open a small communicator as she monitored his heartbeat.

 “I'm assuming one of you can keep an eye on the twins” she remarked, standing and accepting a bag from Palo. Drawing out bottle of sani-spray, she passed it around to all of them, save her husband. “If we need anything, Palo can run out for it” she explained. “It’s probably better if he isn't in the room for this in any case...I don't think it will help Anakin.”

 She bent and picked up one of the towels, placing it in the pot of warm water before nodding for Palo to leave the room.

  _“Nghhhh..”_

 Obi-Wan jumped and yelped as Anakin’s organic hand shot up to take his in an iron grasp. His knees abruptly bent beneath the sheets and his head lifted off the pillows slightly.

 “Okay” Padme breathed, though it seemed to be more to herself than anyone. “Obi-Wan, I need you to position his legs a bit wider and pull the sheet up to check how much he's dilated.” She began wringing out the towel, folding it into a neat square before passing it to him. “Place that on his perineum and...his...against the birthing area. It will help ease the muscles and prevent tearing.”

 The older man hastened to do as he was told, though it took some convincing to get Anakin to let go of his hand. Frowning, he glanced uncertainly at Padme, who tilted her head curiously.

 “It...well..I've never seen anything like this” he muttered.

 “Is there an opening along the center of the perineum?” she asked sharply.

 Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded.

 “That's normal for Male Carriers, it's the _genis canalis_...a makeshift birth canal. It will close once the twins are born.”

 “Oh fuck no” Anakin snapped. “First I'm lactating, and now I have a-a-” he gestured furiously.

 “It’s not like that” Padme said hastily. “Your body is ensuring as sanitary and natural a birth as possible. It's an evolutionary marvel, really.”

 “So what's the point of me...being...all wet down there all the time??”

 “Because the _genis canalis_ only forms during birth” was the somewhat impatient reply. “It channels to the same organs as the path of conception...there's even a point where they briefly conjoin...but you're not built to give birth...there.”

 “Why haven't we come across this before?” Obi-Wan murmured. “I...was busy with missions during the pregnancy but I'm sure I'd have remembered coming across a development like this.”

 “I only recently found any information about it scrolling through chat rooms exclusive to male Carriers” Padme replied, tucking a lock of stray hair behind her ear. “It’s one of those undisclosed factors….like how Jedi don't reveal Force techniques to uninitiated individuals, whether they're Sensitive or not.”

 Anakin continued to look appropriately stymied, so Obi-Wan took advantage of his distraction to do as Padme had asked. Once he had ascertained his dialation, he placed the warm towel where he'd been directed to.

 “Feels good” Anakin murmured, his face slightly flushed now as he fought to control his breathing. He shifted uncomfortably. “...I'm a little thirsty.”

 “How far apart are your contractions now?”

 A pained moan was the only given response and Obi-Wan had to back away quickly as the younger man rolled onto his side, bracing the arm closest to the mattress under his head.

 “About five minutes” Obi-Wan replied quietly. “Can he...deliver like that?”

 Padme chewed her lip for a minute.

 “It’s not unheard of” she answered. “It might help him, really. The weight of the twins on his spine plus the pressure contractions put on the pelvic muscles could be eased. He's doing what feels instinctual right now, so we'll let him be. If he starts struggling we can move him back but he seems to be progressing nicely.”

 “I'm right here” Anakin snapped, glaring sideways at them. “And I'm still thirsty.”

 Padme rolled her eyes and stifled a grin.

 “I'll be right back Ani.”

 Obi-Wan pulled a towel from the hot water and placed the one he'd been using back, copying what Padme had done before returning to the bed.

 “If you lift a little bit I can slide this between your legs” he offered, pulling the sheet down slightly. His former padawan grimaced but acquiesced, the tension in his face lessening as the cloth soothed some of the ache. “You're doing so well” he said comfortingly, running a hand through those gloriously golden locks. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

 “D-did you bring your dewback?” Anakin stuttered.

 Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

 “Zulie?”

 A pained laugh escaped the younger man’s lips.

 “Didn't know it had a name…s’cute. A girl?”

 Obi-Wan was thoughtful.

 “Do you know, I don't think I ever decided.” He rose and ruffled through the small box that contained their belongings, pulling out the crocheted dewback and handing it to Anakin, who squeezed it tightly.

 “This way I won't shatter your phalanges” he said hoarsely. He ran a thumb over the green stitching. “You should give this to one of them.”

 “Oh stars, it's such a ratty old thing” Obi-Wan chuckled. “With all the children's gadgets out today, poor Zulie would get utterly neglected.”

 “And they say Jedi don't form-” he stopped abruptly and the sheets moved as he arched slightly before bringing his leg up. A low moan left his lips and he bit into the pillow.

 Obi-Wan checked the towel and found it colder than he would have liked. He was just tucking its replacement into place when Padme came back with Anakin’s water, which he took gratefully.

 “Drink slowly” she cautioned, picking up his wrist to check his pulse again. “If you feel you need to use the ‘fresher, don’t hesitate to ask...sometimes it's hard to tell during labor.”

 He obeyed, albeit reluctantly, handing the glass back as another contraction gripped him. This time, Obi-Wan was aware of a flare in his Signature; like a single musical chord throwing up a wash of energy, primal and deep. He reached out to steady him, but was hastily redirected by Padme as she asked him to do another examination. Before he could do as she requested, Anakin groaned and grasped the sheets, a dark red suffusing the whiteness of the starch as he began to push in earnest.

 “He's in full labor” Padme said, switching directives hastily and throwing the sheets back without pretense. She drew in a hasty breath and threw the now thoroughly ruined towel into a plastic bag, using a smaller one to cleanse the affected area before reaching to grab another one. “He's not going to notice much now, so our main focus is keeping him from tiring out.”

 Obi-Wan wanted to argue that _his_ main focus was to keep from _passing_ out but he doubted that such a comment would go over well. Despite her stellar mastery of the situation, it was obvious Padme was more than a little bit nervous. She would have to go through this herself in a few weeks, visually experiencing it beforehand couldn't be pleasant. Only someone looking very closely would notice it, but her hands were shaking subtly and she was just a shade paler than usual.

 “Thank you for doing this” he said quietly, stroking Anakin’s hip through the sheet as he bore down. “I don't know what we'd have done without the two of you.”

 Padme smiled, a little tremulously.

 “Anakin’s a good man” she replied. “So are you. I'm proud to have you both as friends.”

  _”Obi-Wan!”_

 “I'm right here” he assured Anakin, who looking unduly terrified. He moved to sit next to him on the side of the bed and gently placed his lips against the shell of a flushed ear, his hand cupping the tense curve of his belly. “It’s alright dear one.”

“Please- _ngh!_ -please- _ah!_ -don’t leave me, _please_ don't leave me!”

 “I'm not going anywhere” he murmured, running his hand through damp locks. “I'm here….the twins are here...this is not your vision.”

 He arched again and Padme was saying she could see the head of one of the twins.

 “It won't be long now” she muttered, grabbing a clean, dry, towel.

 Obi-Wan’s breath caught as Anakin shouted something he didn't recognize in Huttese, rolling onto his knees...his Signature roiling with emotion...the words that left his lips dying out into nothingness as he sagged.

 A high, thin wail split the air and he couldn't help the exuberant laugh that left him as Padme cut the cord and placed a squalling infant into his arms, hastily returning so she could catch the second. It wasn't long before Anakin groaned and stiffened, losing all semblance of bodily strength as their second child came into the world and was swiftly bundled by Padme, who covered the exhausted man on the bed and shouted for Palo, handing the baby over to him so she could manage the afterbirth.

 “Oh, Anakin, they're beautiful” Obi-Wan breathed.

 And indeed, they were. Both infants sported a thin covering of fine, dark hair that didn't really match either parent; but Padme assured them that follicle pigmentation took at least a month to settle. The first child-a girl-had Anakin’s stunning blue eyes...like sky and summer wrapped up into one tiny package. The boy had Obi-Wan’s steely irises, the gathering before a storm...rain and thunder. Both of them were long and lean, though not unusually so...slender yet strong fingers and adorable toes that Obi-Wan was absolutely positive they’d gotten from Anakin.

 “Lemme see ‘em.”

 His voice was hoarse from overuse, breathing still slightly ragged, but both Padme and Obi-Wan hastened to help Anakin roll over and sit up. The young man’s hands trembled as Obi-Wan gently tucked the girl into his right arm and the boy into his left. The ragged sob the left his lips was entirely unconscious, and Obi-Wan smiled gently as a tiny hand reached up to brush against leather-gloved fingers.

 “They're so small” Anakin murmured shakily. “Are they alright?”

 The girl gave a wail that sounded angry rather than upset, and smacked her lips. Padme laughed as the man holding them looked bewildered.

 “That one's hungry, if my memory of being around infants serves me right” she giggled.

 “Oh..”

 He appeared to hesitate for a second, apparently fighting an internal battle. Obi-Wan’s breath caught as Anakin began to unlace his tunic-a rather impressive feat considering both his arms were occupied-the whorl of a dark nipple visible before Padme showed him the clutch position, gently maneuvering the infant under his arm and leading her mouth to his chest. She latched almost immediately, and he let out a ragged breath, his expression softening. Obi-Wan got his chance to hold the boy while Anakin nursed, talking absolute nonsense for probably the longest and happiest time in his life.

 “Have you thought about names?” Obi-Wan queried, observing his partner with a tenderness he'd never felt before.

 Anakin blinked sleepily, stroking a finger that was trembling with exhaustion down their daughter’s cheek.

 “Leia” he murmured.

 “Leia” Obi-Wan echoed. “I like it.” He bounced their son thoughtfully for a moment. “How about Luke?”

 The younger man smiled tiredly.

 “Luke and Leia Kenobi” he said raggedly. “I like it.”

 The older man raised an eyebrow.

 “Not Skywalker?”

 “I think this universe has had enough of Skywalkers” Anakin replied. “When we-as you put it-’legally unify’ or whatever, I'm taking your name whether you like it or not.”

And that was flattering enough that Obi-Wan actually cried, then kissed Anakin ‘till Leia got angry and burped all over his tunic...but he couldn't bring himself to care. He handed Luke over and took Leia so her brother could be fed, feeling like the luckiest man in the galaxy. And if Padme got a little teary-eyed watching the proceedings she didn't mention it, preferring to change the sheets, pick up the room and tuck both men in when they fell asleep out of pure exhaustion. When the suns went down over Tatooine, no one noticed...lost in the dreams of tomorrow, and the gifts of what had come to pass during the day.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Anakin woke feeling sore but happy.

 It was easy to tell when it was morning on Tatooine...with the suns came the day and with the day the heat. It appeared that someone had turned off the cooling unit during the night, but they would need it again soon. Rolling over took some effort, but when he did he was faced with a set of beautiful grey-blue eyes, a solemn mouth and the cutest nose in the Galaxy. Beside him, his sister was still blessedly asleep, curled into Obi-Wan, who was snoring softly. Luke cooed and kicked his legs at the sight of him awake. Anakin grinned.

 “Hey” he murmured. “Hungry?”

 He laughed quietly as some zealous lip-smacking was his immediate response. It was a bit of a struggle to sit up but he managed it, maneuvering his son into position once he was sure he'd gotten the hold right. He let his head loll tiredly as Luke nursed, the only sound in the room the snuffling of his enthusiastic feeding. He'd been alarmed at all the noise at first, but Padme reassured him it was normal. Yeah, it was _weird_ having a tiny human siphon milk out of your body, but he wasn't a monster. They didn't have formula, let alone bottles. There was no way he was gonna be the self-absorbed jerk that let his newborn children starve because he didn't like the idea of being bovine. Anakin was beginning to doze once more when Obi-Wan shifted and sighed, rising up on his elbows to peer blearily at them. They kissed briefly before his former Master rolled out of bed and went to use the ‘fresher. He came back wearing a pair of tan pants and a loose-fitting long-sleeved shirt that was Navy blue. Anakin raised an eyebrow and he grimaced.

 “Palo’s contribution” he said in a pained manner. “There’s a change of clothes for you too but I wasn't sure if you'd be feeling up to getting out of bed yet.”

 “I'd kinda like a shower” Anakin admitted, plucking at his tunic. Luke made a discontented noise and he cradled his head briefly so he could get a better latch. Obi-Wan chuckled, but in a breathless, emotional sort of way. “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing” Obi-Wan said, placing a kiss on his brow. “I just wish you could see yourself right now.” He laughed and shook his head. “Ten years ago, if someone had told me my padawan was going to bear me the most beautiful children in the galaxy I think I'd have forced Sleep into their minds and dumped them in the Outer Rim. We've… _survived_ things...horrible things...and I thought that it would always be that way; us dodging our deaths till we just succumbed to the Force out of pure exhaustion. We fought...but we always stood by each other when it mattered.” He glanced fondly at their children. “Now you're a father, _I'm_ a father...it's like being born all over again.”

 There was a light knock at the door to their rooms and Anakin watched as Obi-Wan went to answer it. Their view was immediately obscured by a deep green recliner, which Palo proceeded to drag up against a wall and drop with a muffled curse.

 “You really didn't need to do that” Anakin commented.

 “Yes, I did” Palo grumped. “Or my wife will have my head...she wants a picture of the four of you.”

 “Absolutely not” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Anakin can't-”

 “-I'm fine” the younger man said hastily, sitting up and placing a now-slumbering Luke next to Leia. He winced but dragged the shirt and slacks over to him nonetheless. “Help me to the ‘fresher, would you?”

 For a moment, it seemed as if Obi-Wan might argue, but he relented after apparently giving it some thought and cautiously led Anakin to the bathroom. By the time he'd finished and dressed, Padme had joined her husband, clutching a small padd in her hands.

 “I've been wanting to try this out for ages” she said excitedly. “It’s a built in camera that mimics the effects of a painting.” While Obi-Wan went to fetch the twins, Anakin sank down into the chair with a resigned sigh. Leia was handed off to him, while Padme directed Obi-Wan to an arm of the chair so he could perch a bit higher. She took several shots before being apparently satisfied with one of them, bouncing over to show them the results. “Ani’s not looking at the camera, but I rather like the effect” she commented as they peered at the screen.

 

[ ](http://s1380.photobucket.com/user/Arnediadglanduath/media/khu_zpsqiymkwol.jpg.html)

“Your hair’s getting long” Anakin commented, glancing at Obi-Wan, who rolled his eyes.

 “You’ll forgive me if I haven't had the time to trim it” he said dryly, bouncing Luke.

 “...Can we get this framed?” the younger man asked curiously. “Nothing huge...just something to put up on a dresser.”

 Padme beamed.

 “Of course you can” she said delightedly. “I'm glad you like it.”

 Leia chose that moment to wake up and began to wail furiously. Already exhausted from his move from bed to chair, Anakin opted to feed her in the recliner while Obi-Wan and Palo left to rummage through their supplies for breakfast, leaving Padme to perch on the spot his partner had vacated, rocking Luke.

 “You’re sure they're alright?” he queried, stroking a hand over Leia’s head. “They were nearly a month early.”

 “The doctor will be here soon” Padme reassured him. “But they seem to be fine.” She smiled. “You've certainly accomplished what a lot of women don't...not many can say they've given birth in this day and age with no pain medication or epidural.”

 “I think I'd prefer the epidural next time” Anakin said dryly.

 “...You think you’ll have more?”

 He shrugged.

 “Not anytime soon, but it's not something I'm just gonna dismiss.”

 The door to the Master bedroom slid open, and Obi-Wan entered carrying some fruit and oatmeal, followed by Palo.

 “You’ve just missed Anakin planning on adding more additions to the family” Padme said lightly.

 The former Jedi Master raised an eyebrow.

 “...Oh? How _many_ additions?” he queried.

 “I thought five or six” Anakin said glibly, playing along.

 He hid a grin as Obi-Wan nearly dropped his cargo.

 “...I need to sit down” the older man muttered, perching on the edge of the recliner opposite Padme and taking deep breaths. “What happened to _’I'm never letting you fuck me ever again?’_ ” he muttered in Anakin’s ear.

 “Oh, we all know that's not going to happen” Palo said sarcastically catching the vein of the conversation as their hushed voices accidentally carried. He folded his arms and studied the couple pensively. “A year” he said firmly, nodding and raising a challenging brow at his wife.

 “Six months” she scoffed.

 "What’re you betting on?!” Anakin demanded.

 “Nope, not telling” Palo chuckled, making his way to the door. “Congratulations” he added, pausing. “Get some rest, the both of you.” He waggled his eyebrows at Padme, who blushed and followed.

 “I don't want six more kids” Anakin said hastily when the door slid shut.

 He watched as Obi-Wan sagged with relief.

 “Thank the stars” the older man breathed. “Anakin I don't think I'd live long enough to see them all get married.”

 “You don't know that” the younger man replied. “But...m’not saying we can't have anymore kids at all.”

 His eyes fluttered as Obi-Wan stroked his hair fondly.

 “I know” he murmured. “For now, you look exhausted...let me help you back to bed.”

 He took Leia and proffered his elbow, and they made a slow but steady path back to the mattress.

 “We need a crib” Anakin muttered, watching as Obi-Wan placed the twins on the carpet and got down to play with them.

 “Soon” Obi-Wan said distractedly, wiggling his fingers over Leia’s face. He glanced up at him and a warm smile graced his features. “Get some sleep, love.”

 “The twins’ll need feeding in a few hours” Anakin mumbled sleepily. “Wake me up then.”

 “Of course.”

 ''...Love you.”

 “And I you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the birth scene was a bit graphic...but I do tend to do birth scenes in semi-fine detail. I truly hope this lived up to your expectations. I really loved writing it!
> 
>  (p.s.) my photoshop skills are abysmal 
> 
> **R &R**


	13. Now And Forever

Something in the kitchen smelled absolutely amazing.

 

Lying on the floor shaking a toy over Leia, Anakin’s mouth watered as the smell of chocolate wafted up from downstairs. Luke was slumbering in a wicker basket next to the bed, and Padme was reading a baby book on the green recliner; a fuzzy-looking fruit in her hand. Obi-Wan had volunteered to cook dinner, and while Anakin had initially been apprehensive, he was comforted by the fact that at least dessert would be incredible. His former Master had quite the reputation as a chef; mainly, for being a very terrible one...but Anakin never really minded anything the older man set in front of him in his desperate attempts at guardianship when he was a padawan. It was the thought that counted, and if he had to gulp copious amounts of water to stave off the flavor, it was a small sacrifice to pay. By the time he was twelve, Obi-Wan had caught onto his ruse and given up any semblance of culinary pursuit entirely, but there was a small part of Anakin that missed it. Not the food really, just the attention. Besides, if there was anything his Master was good at fixing, it was dessert. As a rule, he avoided carbohydrates but _hells_ could Obi-Wan fix a gingerbread to die for...and his cakes were absolutely legendary. When he'd asked, the older man mumbled something about having his mother's recipes in some mysterious holobook he kept underneath his sleeping couch...utterly embarrassed at the high praise Anakin had given to his hubba strudel. 

 

Adjusting to their new way of life came in waves. Three days after the birth of the twins, Anakin threw what could really only be considered a fit and gone on a five mile jog in protest of his forced bed rest. That afternoon, he and Padme cornered Palo and forced him to assemble two simple but efficient cribs, which they put in one of the empty rooms off the downstairs hallway. As much as he liked sleeping with the twins, he was utterly terrified he was going to roll over on one of them during the night. A resigned Obi-Wan procured some blue and yellow paint, which he used to create a nursery starscape that had Luke utterly mesmerized. Leia was less than impressed, ‘til Anakin assembled an electronic mobile of inner core planetary bodies that rotated on a hover-axis. Padme contributed with an immense supply of nappies and disposable sanitary cloths, courtesy of her giant luggage pod...and five outfits for Luke and Leia both. They'd discovered a third room above the Master bedroom that had a niche sporting a cloth-span that was fairly new and several closets; assumably for storage. It was here that Padme elected to put their cleaning supplies and extra non perishables. She and Palo had taken a bedroom in the hallway as well, along with another room that the former Queen of Naboo used as a communications office. Despite the fact that she spent a considerable amount of time helping them get settled, she still had political duties to attend to. 

 

If the twins happened to be asleep, Anakin had taken to swimming in the oasis. It was incredible, really. The water was cool but not overly-so...and he'd been privy to scooping up brightly-colored freshwater clams that liked to burrow at the bottom. The soup that he made out of them was wildly popular, and he strung the shells onto ivory-hued synthstring to create windowshades that made melodic tapping sounds whenever the wind passed through them. A few he left out for the twins, who were enchanted by the texture and color. If Anakin wasn't swimming or decorating, he was working. Padme was right about the town close to them needing a good mechanic. The ‘main man’ the citizens knew was an Aqualish that Anakin strongly suspected couldn't tell a holo-projector from an interactive simulator screen. He went by the name ‘Mort’ and when Anakin fixed four holopadds in the space of six minutes he practically threw himself at his feet and begged him to take the job. He worked part-time, on a non-specific schedule that depended on the needs of the customers. His pay came directly from the clients, with an eight percent dividend that went to the business. If he didn't get a particularly difficult challenge every day, he was all the more satisfied when such a task came came along. 

 

Obi-Wan was having a bit more difficulty adjusting. His entire life had revolved around being a Jedi, and having been thrust into a world that had no care for a single citizen was utterly alien. Being able to do as he wished-unfettered by orders from the Council-wasn’t freeing, it was frightening. 

 

“I feel like I've fallen off a cliff.” 

 

They'd been lying in bed one night, with the sounds of Leia’s thunderous snores coming in through the monitor and Luke suckling at Anakin’s chest when Obi-Wan had made so profound and odd a statement. He'd raised a tired brow in question, half-asleep himself at the time and not quite understanding what the older man was trying to say. 

 

“It’s like I've jumped off a tower on Coruscant out of my own free will and I just keep falling.”

 

“S’okay” Anakin mumbled. “I know what you mean. I felt like it all the time when I was a padawan.”

 

“...How did you stop?”

 

Resigning himself to at least temporary wakefulness, the younger man blinked hard and cleared his throat.

 

“The...falling you described. It's, realizing you don't have limits.” Luke’s mouth slipped and he grizzled for a moment before Anakin readjusted him. “I dunno. I always knew I was never gonna be a Jedi forever, whether I got kicked out or quit. I just, I couldn't control my need for emotion. You’re re-centering yourself for this life, and the Jedi in you isn’t comfortable with it...sees the love you have for our kids and rejects it because it's _forbidden_.”

 

“But I loved you long before Luke or Leia came into our lives” Obi-Wan replied, habitually folding the sheet over the comforter. “I never felt like this with you.”

 

“I'm neurotic” Anakin said dryly. “Your mind compensated your emotions for me because in terms of the Code I'm an emotional basket case.” He paused. “And all that ‘Chosen One’ shit probably didn't help.”

 

“Oh, please” the older man scoffed. “Don't try and rub my dismissal of my rampant attachment to you off as my subconscious supposition that you were some kind of Force-imbued _diety_. That's beyond narcissism.”

 

“I'm not saying that” Anakin grouched. “I’m saying you were able to rationalize it because I'm one person, and certainly not a gold star role model. Luke and Leia are your flesh and blood, they're _pure_.”

 

“I don't think you're dirty.”

 

“Well thanks, you're sweet and all but I'm no angel.”

 

Obi-Wan snorted. 

 

“No Anakin, you have never been and never will be an angel.” He grinned cheekily. “Even if some people think you're as pretty as one.”

 

And so it went.

 

If Obi-Wan started feeling opportunistically agoraphobic, Anakin would drag him to their bedroom to meditate. If Anakin found himself wanting to smash his far-too-old self to bits in a podrace in order to get an adrenaline rush, Obi-Wan would drag him to their bedroom to meditate. It wasn't perfect, not by half, he'd long ago resigned himself to the fact that nothing ran smooth continuously...especially when you wanted it to. If Obi-Wan had one drink too many every once in awhile and babbled on about how frivolous everything was, Anakin let him. And if Anakin fixed up an old speeder and promptly drove it into the oasis due to miscalibrated torque, Obi-Wan shouted a lot then forgave him. In a sense, it was a lot like getting to know each other all over again. He knew Obi-Wan the Jedi, the man who could talk a blazing starfighter into putting itself out if he tried hard enough, the man who came home and showered him with affection behind closed doors. But Anakin didn't know Obi-Wan the person, the man who had only himself and his family to hold onto in the wake of their expulsion, and he suspected that Obi-Wan was struggling to find that individual definition of himself. It was easy to be young and begin anew, but not so much for someone whose life had been so firmly defined up until a short time ago.

 

“Ani...what do you know about Carriers beyond pregnancy?”

 

Padme’s query drew Anakin from his thoughts, and he blinked thoughtfully before turning to face her, tickling Leia’s feet absentmindedly.

 

“I didn't think there was much more to it” he replied. 

 

The young woman shut off the padd she'd been reading and adjusted her skirts. 

 

“Male Carriers go through fertility cycles much like female Carriers have menstrual periods, only they're much further spaced apart, happening once every few years rather than once a month. Moreover, males don't experience bleeding or cramping, as eggs cycle back into the reproductive lineup once ovulation has ended to be used again.” 

 

“So how will I know if I'm...viable for reproduction again?” 

 

Padme sighed. 

 

“Honestly, I don't know. Your cycles aren't scheduled, they're based on when your body thinks you’re in peak health.” 

 

Anakin grimaced. 

 

“I'm not using condoms for the rest of my life.” 

 

“Well then, you’re just going to have to make Obi-Wan be very _very_ happy to always be on the bottom.” She giggled. “Unless you're looking to get pregnant again right away. You’re most fertile right after birth.” 

 

Anakin opened his mouth to reply when a movement by the door caught his eye. Obi-Wan seemed to be torn between walking in on what was surely going to be a mortifying conversation, and fleeing back down into the safety of the kitchen. He was covered practically head to toe in flour and was wringing a dishcloth between his fingers. Catching Anakin’s amused glance, he cleared his throat and stepped in.

 

“Dinner is done” he remarked, with the air of someone trying very desperately to hold on to his composure. “I’m...sorry to say I don't know how good it will be but Palo is already eating and doesn't seem like he's about to die so I think everything is somewhat palatable.”

 

“Thank you Obi-Wan” Padme replied, rising from her seat and crossing the room to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It's so kind of you to cook for us.” She paused. “Tell you what, Palo and I will watch the little ones this evening. You and Ani can go out and spend some quality time together.”

 

Anakin was pleasantly surprised.

 

“You don't mind?” he queried.

 

The Senator laughed and waved a hand. 

 

“If you must know, I've been dying to get Palo to play with them. I think it's good practice.” 

 

She brushed past his former Master and began to descend the stairs, gradually passing out of earshot. Leia squealed excitedly as Obi-Wan closed the door to their bedroom and knelt next to Anakin, scooping her up as he did so and placing a barrage of whiskery kisses on her cheek. Their daughter giggled and attempted to grab his nose. The younger man was content to let them cuddle for a while, sitting back and looking thoughtfully out the half-moon window. 

 

“You’re unusually quiet” Obi-Wan observed, his eyes scrunched up as Leia wiggled her tiny fingers through his beard. 

 

“Yeah, I'm just thinking” he replied, carding his organic hand through his hair. “Since we’ll have the time, why don't we make this all official?” The older man frowned and raised a brow. Anakin sighed and began to stand. “C’mon Obi-Wan, let's go eat dinner….

 

...then let's go get hitched.”

______________________________________________________________________

As a youth, Obi-Wan had always imagined marriage as an extravagant affair. His mind envisioned giant cakes, unlimited alcohol and too many guests. He'd attended prominent political unions as a Jedi and thought them frivolous expenditures...a riot of pomp and circumstance that was more for the sake of the public eye than the people involved in the actual marriage. He'd seen his share of tribal marriages,of course. There was a planet near Bespin whose people firmly believed in ritual binding ceremonies that involved copious amounts of strawberry icing...something to do with First Contact and a dropped shipment of expiring jelly doughnuts; the details tended to escape him. Needless to say, his views on public marriage ceremonies tended to be that they were a waste of money or incredibly convoluted.

 

When it came to Anakin, he'd had his share of marriage-related nightmares. Some part of his mind was convinced he'd have to win his hand in a trial-by-combat, offering the severed head of his opponent at his intended’s feet. Another part of him was equally convinced that Anakin would want a dress and several dozen bridesmaids(men?) in ugly taffeta to terrorize, becoming the fearsome embodiment of every modernized bride of the era. This was-of course-as far from the truth as Nal Hutta was from Naboo, but the subconscious was a strange and unusual place. 

 

“I hate these pants” Anakin grumbled, yanking the belt about them in an irritated manner. 

 

They were traversing the mile-long path into town, which was relatively unoccupied at this time of day. Both of them had made an effort to wear civilian clothes since their arrival, and while Obi-Wan was growing more used to it, Anakin lamented the fact that he was still a size up from his pre-twin condition. 

 

“They look fine” Obi-Wan sighed. “Honestly Anakin, what do you expect from your body after giving birth to two infants at once? You’re not a boomerang.”

 

“Your desserts aren't helping” was the muttered response.

 

“I can stop making them” the older man said lightly. “But you look fine to me, and you're nursing, which requires you to consume extra calories. It’s not like you're eating ridiculous amounts anyway. You eat single servings and you exercise more than all of us combined.” Anakin continued to look morose and he sighed and stepped in front of him, cupping his face. “You’re unerringly dazzling” he murmured. “But you have a narcissistic streak that's incongruous.”

 

The younger man smirked and kissed him, warm lips sliding over his. 

 

Sand was veritably stuck to them by the time they reached town, and Anakin was grumbling mightily. The area in question reminded him of a much smaller Mos Eisley, with a scattered collection of synth-stone dwellings commingled with shops and the occasional restaurant or tavern. As the new owners of the “big house”, they  
were somewhat of a celebrity. People stopped what they were doing to stare or greet them, a mixture of grudging respect and resignation. Anakin was better known than he was, but that was soon to change. Obi-Wan had spent hour upon hour speaking with public representatives in a stifling hot meeting house at the center of town, drawing out financial and educational plans for the future. Already, they had plans for a multipurpose education center that focused on planetside economic and career-centric growth. 

 

Padme was right about the place being free of slaves, but that did not mean that many of the inhabitants hadn't once been bound to servitude. Whatever the Hutt before them did, it had little to do with human exploitation and more to do with ridiculous taxes. In exchange for access to the underground springs that fed the oasis, he charged a hefty fee. People who couldn't pay were asked to leave, hence the town’s slow growth. Still, Obi-Wan suspected it was eons better than any other Hutt would have demanded. He and Anakin almost immediately granted the public unlimited water access, save for the oasis in front of the house. Normally, he would have given that up too, but he was deeply protective of their privacy. None of the townspeople knew of the twins’ existence, or that Anakin was a Carrier. As far as the public was concerned, they were good-minded charity partners. 

 

As they approached the community legislative building, Obi-Wan realized that they were starting what Anakin would call a “shitstorm.” When news of their union reached Coruscant, their cover of ‘retired war general’s would be ripped off its hinges. Not only that, but the Temple would receive intense media scrutiny for who knows how long. The thought of it made the Jedi in him want to dig in his heels and walk the other way. At the same time, he acknowledged that he was just as tired of hiding here as he'd been at the Temple. When he passed Anakin on the streets he wanted to be able to stop and kiss him before going on his way. They weren't the only single-gendered couple in the area. He distinctly remembered hearing two Correlian males owned a large moisture farm a mile or so out of town, a pair of female Chiss were temporarily stationed in the town’s only inn, and he was fairly sure he'd seen a lone Filordus. That wasn't to say he was entirely ignorant of the stigma against same-sex couples that had yet to be eliminated in the Outer Rim. On a planet like Tatooine, families arranged marriages based on class status and monetary gain. It was the only solid way to ensure that titles and land were passed on as desired, and children whose families could not afford them were often sold before the age of eighteen. Shmi Skywalker was likely the unfortunate byproduct of such a trade, or perhaps her ancestors before her. Despite the fact that the mutation of the Carrier gene was fairly common knowledge on Coruscant, Obi-Wan sincerely doubted it was a well-known factor here. In reality, its discovery was only about four-hundred years old, making it one of the youngest scientific phenomena in recent history. Moreover, any that did know of its existence would likely consider it an abomination against true human nature. Better that they say Luke and Leia were adopted than that Anakin had carried and birthed them. Still, there was no denying that their children looked like them. Luke was practically the picture of Obi-Wan, especially when it came to personality. Leia was dark-haired but fiery like Anakin with the eyes to match. 

 

“Yeah, just the paperwork” Anakin was saying.   
Obi-Wan smiled at the young woman behind the judiciary desk, who spared him a short nod but otherwise looked preoccupied. 

 

“There's a two day grace-period” she commented, handing them twin holopadds. “In case you decide to annul.”

 

The forms were fairly straightforward, with perfunctory areas detailing spousal claims to property and conjoined bank accounts. It was clear they were specifically designed for the arranged marriages that often happened on Tatooine, with major attention paid to inheritance and individual possession. Anakin finished his paperwork first, and the woman glancing through it gave him a strange look before connecting the padd to a monitor. Obi-Wan followed with his own a few minutes afterwards and took the standard oath of universal verity before being handed both a chip and a small decorated envelope with their now ‘official’ information. 

 

“Congratulations” the clerk said dryly, turning back to her work with a distinct air of dismissal. 

 

It wasn't until they were back outside that Anakin lost all form of composure and flung his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck. 

 

“We did it!” 

 

“We certainly did” the older man replied, his voice slightly muffled due to the fact it was squashed into his former padawan’s shoulder. “You know, I was expecting it to be more dramatic.”

 

Anakin drew back with a crestfallen expression.

 

“You wanted a ceremony?”

 

Obi-Wan chuckled. 

 

“Stars _no_ , but I was thinking you might.”

 

The younger man wrinkled his nose. 

 

“Hell, who would we even invite? I couldn't eat that much cake by myself.” 

 

He smirked.

 

“Oh, so _you're_ the one who gets to eat all the cake?”

 

“Well you're obviously going to drink all the booze so that leaves me with food.”

 

“Weren't you complaining about your pants earlier?”

 

“It’s my karking wedding I can eat as much as I fucking want” Anakin snarked, reaching into his pocket and procuring a tiny black box. “Here. Guess I shoulda done this before we waded through the paperwork but I'm not exactly that organized.”

 

“Heaven forbid you do anything in order” Obi-Wan mused, opening the box and catching his breath. “Oh..”

 

Nestled in a swatch of what he recognized as Anakin’s Jedi robe was a simple ring-silver by the look of it-unadorned except for an elegant twist of onyx lettering that spanned the entire exterior and interior circumference in an even spiral. 

 

_”Uchone jee, santajah sandoska turnsuns...ateema...kuteela…”_

 

“You and I stand the sands of time...now...forever” Obi-Wan murmured, blinking away the unnecessary moisture that had formed on his eyes. “It's beautiful, where did you get it?”

 

“I made it” Anakin said casually, as if they were talking about the weather. Gently, he plucked the ring from its box and took Obi-Wan’s left hand, sliding it onto his little finger, before lifting his palm and pressing a kiss against it. “Looks like you're stuck with me, old man.” 

 

Pretending he wasn't deeply emotionally moved was ridiculous at this point, so Obi-Wan dropped the box-keeping the square of his former padawan’s cloak clutched tightly in his right hand-and kissed Anakin like he was dying. The younger man gave a soft _’mphf!’_ of surprise before reciprocating with equal passion. Neither noticed as they stumbled backwards to crash against the rough synth-stone of the building they had recently exited, though Anakin shuddered a bit as the back of his head hit solid surface. Obi-Wan worried about it for maybe a second before deciding that if he was hard-headed enough to marry a man over ten years his senior then the most he'd have was a bump in the morning. His assumption was reassured when long fingers dipped below his waist to grab his ass in a way that had him pulling away to whimper desperately before pulling at long blonde strands of hair that had fallen about his face. Faster than lightning, Obi-Wan found himself whipped around so he was the one with his back to the wall, white suffusing his vision as Anakin rutted up against him in a gesture that was entirely too suggestive. 

 

A warm, wet tongue traced the seam of his lips in silent question and he tilted his head somewhat, opening his mouth in answer and shivering at the hot, aqueous slide of hungry flesh against flesh. Shoving the sentimental patch of fabric into a pocket, Obi-Wan let his hand trace the bold contour of Anakin’s jaw, reveling in the expanse of smooth, soft skin beneath his fingertips. Their Force Signatures rose to crash together like sea against shore; an explosion of luminescent virility that threaded itself into a dazzling psychic masterpiece, thrumming with need and desire. Sliding his left hand under a sandy shirt, his fingers found the softened buds of Anakin’s nipples, slightly swollen from the hours spent in absence from the twins. He was accosted with the desire to suck-to _pleasure_ -them ‘till the realistic part of his brain reminded him they were still in a very public place 

 

“Maybe we shouldn't go home tonight-” Obi-Wan gasped, fumbling with Anakin’s fly. “-Get a room at the hotel.”

 

A soft groan was his only reply as the younger man found a soft niche between hip and pelvic bone and began grinding luxuriously. He was slowly, incoherently, resigning himself to the fact that they might very well fuck right there when his pocketcomm buzzed urgently.

 

“Ignore it” Anakin whined, grazing his teeth against a sensitive earlobe. 

 

“Only Padme has my private comm” Obi-Wan murmured, pushing at the arms encircling him. “It might be about the twins.”

 

The younger man huffed but stood back, watching with a resigned sort of irritation as he dug around and pressed the _’accept call’_ button. Before he even had the chance to speak, the person calling-in this case, Palo-began to speak hurriedly.

 

***”You and Anakin need to come back right now.”***

 

“Are Luke and Leia alright?” Obi-Wan demanded.

 

***Yea...but the midwife just got here and Padme’s six centimeters dilated. I don't give a damn what she says about giving you two the night off despite all this, I'm not missing the birth of my own kid.***

 

“Of course-” Obi-Wan began hastily, then blinked as the call was abruptly dropped.

 

“Everything okay?” Anakin asked wryly as he watched him stuff the comm back in his pocket. 

 

“We have to go back” he replied, already beginning to jog hastily. 

 

_”Really??”_ Anakin groaned, hastening to catch up. “Why?”

 

“Padme’s in labor” he shot back. “Palo doesn't fancy watching the twins.”

 

“Oh hell” Anakin breathed, catching onto the urgency of the situation and increasing his pace. “Race you back!” he hollered over his shoulder. 

 

Obi-Wan huffed and shook his head, watching as his partner-his _husband_ swiftly pulled ahead of him. Even with the seriousness their speed required, he couldn't help but be happy. Despite their hardships...here they were, with two wonderful children and a relatively to match their parental status. It was more than he had ever dreamed of having. So he looked to the sinking suns with a feeling of elation, watching as Anakin’s heels threw up glittering motes of effervescent sand and dust...rising like so many hopes in the pinks and oranges of a dying sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait. Had urgent family business whilst being sick. Not fun. Your support has been wonderful and heartwarming. I hope this holiday season finds you all happy and well.


	14. More Than Life Itself

Anakin was drunk.

He came to this realization when he tried to call for another glass and ended up flipping the bar stool next to him. On his left, Obi-Wan gave a chuckle that was decidedly less incoherent than his current state of mind, but not by much. The neon lights of the establishment were slightly streaky in places and appeared to be wobbling, but he chalked it up to the hull blaster he had ordered earlier. You couldn't drink copious amounts of whiskey, wash it down with 75% proof, and expect to be totally sober. He wasn't sure what Obi-Wan was drinking, but it was making him hum a tune that was vaguely reminiscent of an old Correllian lullaby so he was forced to assume it was pretty heavy stuff. 

Essentially...this was supposed to be a date night.

They were celebrating something or other...the details had long escaped him. Obi-Wan had a penchant for hovering around bars and collecting information, but it seemed like his famed negotiating skills had gone to the wayside in favor of some unpronounceable but _very_ rare brandy. 

Whatever.

Anakin suppressed a hiccup and stared mulishly at his empty glass. Whoever thought it was a good idea to ban refillable beverage containers was an idiot. He couldn't even pronounce what he'd been drinking anymore, let alone wave down the bartender to ask for it 

Padme had left about a month before. She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl with stunning green eyes and soft curly hair. By the time he and Obi-Wan had gotten home Palo was practically fit to explode and they'd taken the twins without comment. Everything was done in the presence of a midwife, and Anakin couldn't particularly find it in himself to resent Padme for it. The delivery was smooth, with the aid of an epidural and lots of painkillers that prevented her from breastfeeding immediately afterwards. Coralie was being bottle-fed by the time they started talking about leaving, and was none the worse for it. Padme didn't produce large amounts of lactose quite a bit of the time, and Anakin simply didn't have enough to spare. He woke every morning heavy with milk, but by the time bedtime rolled around he was bone dry. The twins were voracious feeders and Padme didn't resent him for it at all. 

By the time she left, the Republic was begging for Padme’s return. The people trusted her completely, and her absence was a sore wound in an already broken system. Palo commented that he wouldn't be surprised if she was elected Chancellor, but Anakin knew she would never take the position. After Coralie’s birth, her interest in politics was waning. Padme wanted to be a mother just as desperately as he and Obi-Wan had wanted to care for their children without the pressures of the Order. She loved her job and was deeply invested in the affairs of the Galaxy, but her instincts were louder still. Anakin was expecting to hear of her resignation any day now. In a way, it was selfishly comforting...knowing they weren't the only people in the Galaxy that had struggled between the choices of duty and family. Anakin knew what it was like to give up everything he'd ever known; he'd done it twice and couldn't bring himself to regret it. There was a point in his life where he'd desperately feared change, but he knew now that it was an inevitable part of existence. There would come a day when the Twins would want to make their own choices, and he couldn't let his fear get in the way of their happiness. Control could not further joy, and though it was a hard lesson to learn, it was also peaceful one. 

They'd hired a nanny soon after the Senator left; an elderly woman named Kori who was stern but sweet. The twins adored her, and she gave them a night of respite once every few weeks. As much as they loved their children, they still set aside time for each other. Obi-Wan’s job grew increasingly demanding, and Anakin was home only to nurse and then return to work. Together, they'd started an outreach program that built housing for impoverished citizens. As more and more of the population got on their feet, a steady trickle of volunteers came out on weekends to help with various projects. People from neighboring towns had packed up to move closer, and they were slowly growing in size. Much of the economy now relied on trade, and Truguts were gradually going to the wayside. You could exchange a bundle of mechanical parts or a patched-up padd for groceries, and Anakin was friends with a wizened old Dug who was willing to trade good product for fresh meat for his restaurant. It was only at public places that money really had any value anymore, and what little was acquired people saved for celebrations and holidays. 

When news of their marriage reached the Inner Core, Obi-Wan spent a few days looking like he wanted to dig a hole in the sand and bury himself in it until it was all over. Several news outlets made the hard trek to the Outer Rim only to be turned away disappointed. As much as he might have enjoyed being a front page scandal, Anakin was tired of the publicity. Obi-Wan would never condone him making a spectacle of something so sacred, and that thought alone was enough to make him slam the door in front of the flashing lights and winking recorder screens. And finally, after a month of dodging poorly disguised photographers and fielding badly worded emails...the last of the media mongers had left. It was Padme’s doing, actually. She'd held a press conference outside the Senate Building outlining her grave disapproval of people disrupting outstanding citizens of the Republic that just wanted to be left alone.

_*’The state of their relationship is no concern to anyone. Obi-Wan and Anakin Kenobi have done their duty to the Republic twice over and then some. They deserve to live lives free of scrutiny and propaganda.’*_

And that was what led them here; to a night of celebratory drinking and reminiscence of days gone past. Tossing back whatever the bartender had graciously poured into his glass; Anakin attempted to stand, tugging on Obi-Wan’s shirt as he did so.

“S’late” he muttered. “Gotta...go….” he furrowed his brow and tried to remember. “S’mwhurr else.” He gestured dramatically and snorted as Obi-Wan squinted blearily at him. “Celebrate.”

The older man rolled his eyes and waved to the concierge, who took one look at their bedraggled states and suggested they take a room for the night. Anakin would never remember who agreed to it, but they were soon stumbling after a cheerful-looking Twi’lek, out of the bar and down a warmly lit hallway to the right. It wasn't uncommon for public tap houses to be built below or among guest rooms. It was a long trek back to outlying moisture farms-or in this case, their oasis home-, especially if you were knackered. The room they were offered was simplistic; with a low double bed sporting light coverlets and what he assumed was a ‘fresher to the left. A chronometer on the nightstand displayed that it was 2200 in bright aquamarine lettering.

“Yes...yes we're staying for the night.”

 

Obi-Wan’s lofty tone slithered over from Anakin’s left, and he snorted. The older man had a tendency to over-enunciate when he was drunk, making him seem like he was constantly talking to someone extremely stupid. Weaving his way over to his former Master, Anakin draped himself unceremoniously about his neck and began nibbling on his ears. He was pleased with the response he received; mainly, a soft gasp and an involuntary shiver. 

“Wanna fuck” he garbled into a wealth of auburn hair. “You fuck me...m’kay?”

“A-Anakin!” Obi-Wan admonished, fumbling with his communicator ‘till it snapped shut. 

The younger man chuckled and dragged his hips suggestively against rough fabric, biting his lip reflexively as the pressure gratified him somewhat. 

“Don't act like you don't wannit” he whispered. Letting his mechno-hand grasp Obi-Wan’s hip, he slid the other around to grasp the obvious erection that was tenting his pants. The inebriated moan his actions provoked made him chuckle. “C’mon _Masterr_...”

Stumbling slightly as the older man turned about to face him, Anakin took full advantage of their position; sealing their lips together and pushing his tongue into the other man’s mouth. The sharp flavor of copious glasses of brandy rushed back to meet him and he moaned, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. All pretense of reluctant accession forgotten, his former Master returned the kiss with fervor; running a hand down his spine to press against the small of his back, bunching his fingers in the fabric of his shirt and drawing it away. 

The warm essence that was singularly Obi-Wan pervaded his senses as they undressed, slowly masking the scent of liquor that so encompassed them. A tongue lapped idly over his swollen nipple and Anakin groaned and threw his head back, nearly falling over as the room spun in a luxurious, inebriated and heavy haze. When his back hit the mattress, he opened his legs instinctively; fingertips buzzing as Obi-Wan settled between them and sucked at the column of his throat. They moved idly, slow in their addled states as the room spun about them. 

It wasn't until trembling fingers pressed against his entrance that Anakin realized he was wet. Something in the back of his mind told him that this should give him pause...but he couldn't think for the life of him why. Not when dextrous digits were working him open so skillfully; hitting his prostate and igniting deep throbs of pleasure hot in his belly. 

His tongue felt thick when Obi-Wan finally pulled away, fumbling around for something ‘till he whined from the lack of attention.

“Y-you’re wet” the older man mumbled. “Need...need…”

He paused and blinked confusedly, unable to recall exactly what was off about the whole situation.

“Need you” Anakin said raggedy, reaching forward and lining him up. “In me. _Now._ ”

Rational thought was shattered...his breath caught in his throat as Obi-Wan’s cock breached him; pushing past the resistance with an ease that should have been alarming, but he was too drunk and too aroused to care. A few seconds pause and he rose up on his elbows and flexed his hips, breath hitching as his prostate was nudged teasingly.

“S-stang” Obi-Wan muttered, dropping down so their bodies could merge fully; Anakin’s weeping erection brushing against his stomach. 

The first deep thrust had him groaning loudly, head thrown back, tongue brushing over the inner edge of his lips as his eyes rolled back. Dimly, he was aware of his body accommodating the intrusion; slick gathering to ease the way as an arcing bolt of pure pleasure rose to crawl its way up into his psyche. Somewhere, a cautious voice in the back of his mind whispered it shouldn't be this easy….that the lack of lube should've made this excruciatingly painful...but he ignored it. Hot and heavy lips came down to draw him into a searing kiss, tongues tangling as Obi-Wan thrust up and inwards. 

_”Hnnn….”_

Long and low...a humming thread of fire that had his toes curling; legs coming up to cradle the hips that were between them as his leather-gloved hand twisted in the sheets. Dextrous lips moved from his to suck at his pulse-point, meretricious fingers grasped his organic hand...twisting it above his head to press into the mattress as the other pulled his hips up; thrusting deep as the angle was adjusted. 

_”Love you”_ Obi-Wan murmured, nuzzling his jaw before lowering his head to press his lips-hot and open-mouthed-against the apex where neck met shoulder. _”You feel so good.”_

Anakin swallowed reflexively as his prostate was hit with unerring precision; long, aching throes of bliss rolling through him as release crept up on him...abdominal muscles spasming as he groaned thickly. The room was beginning to spin slowly as the consequences of so much alcohol began to finally take its toll...but he was too far gone for it to matter. Obi-Wan stiffened, fingers digging into his hips as his cum spilled hot and profuse within him...his name falling whispered, breathless through trembling lips. 

_”I'm-I’m-!”_

...A supernova...like it always was, his entire body afire as his release was painted over his belly; fingers curling as desire rose thick and sweet into his mouth. Obi-Wan grunted distractedly through his orgasmic haze as Anakin’s muscles milked the last remnants of his pleasure out of him, mouth open dazedly... their bodies undulating in tempered spasms with the finality of their surrender. Darkness gathered at the corner of Anakin’s eyes as his head lolled listlessly, boneless in the aftermath of their actions. 

Dimly, he was aware of Obi-Wan rolling off of him and drawing the covers up, solid form curling behind him as they rolled onto their sides. 

“Love you” he whispered raggedly, already drifting into the realms of sleep.

If the older man replied, he didn't hear it...floating into unconciousness, bouyed by threads of the Force….whispering like the ebb and flown of sands over endless dunes...infinite and absolute.

____________________________________________________________________________

They returned to their home and their everyday lives with little thought for what their actions entailed. Later, when looking back on that night, Obi-Wan would kick himself for being so utterly careless, but his memories upon waking up the next day were so fuzzy he didn't think twice. Anakin was warm and heavy on top of him, snoring softly in the early morning light and he was nothing but content. The twins were overjoyed to see them when they returned home, and soon they were caught up in the flurry of day-to-day activity; their night of extraneous drinking and sex nothing but a fond memory to look back on.

It wasn't until a month later that the consequences of their frivolity became apparent. Anakin had gotten up to go to work around 0630, an urgent call coming in from across town about a malfunctioning cooling unit. The family didn't have air conditioning, and in that kind of climate food perished fast if it wasn't stored properly...repairs simply couldn't wait ‘till later in the day. Obi-Wan was still slowly drawing himself into wakefulness when the sounds of Anakin retching yanked him out of sleep like he'd been doused in freezing water. Hastily donning a pair of slacks, Obi-Wan threw open the door to the ‘fresher to find the young man slumped over the toilet looking pale and sickly. 

“Oh, Anakin” he said quietly, rustling up a washcloth and filling a glass of water from the tap. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered that his actions were oddly familiar, but he brushed the thought aside in favor of caring for his husband. “Maybe you should call in and ask Mort to go in your stead.” 

“Mort couldn't fix a cooling unit if he had the repair instructions tattooed into his frontal cortex” Anakin muttered, taking the washcloth with trembling hands. Abruptly, he groaned and leaned over the lip of the toilet to throw up again, shoulders heaving. 

“While that makes for an interesting picture, you've probably caught a bug” Obi-Wan said dryly. 

“I've got to go” was the grim reply. “Geril barely earns enough money as it is, and he has a wife and four kids...they can't afford to lose that food.”

As much as he wanted to argue with him, Obi-Wan knew Anakin was right. Food was a precious commodity, especially to the less fortunate. It was more than cruel to let a family starve just because your stomach was a little upset. So it was with apprehension that he watched Anakin hop on their speeder and rush away in the early morning light, cloak flapping behind him. He returned about an hour and a half later looking positively green and went to lie down. By the afternoon it seemed he was feeling better, mustering up enough strength to play with the twins by the oasis and fix dinner before running off on another urgent call.

The next day Anakin was sick again, but Obi-Wan was up before him working on a blueprint for a new homestead and was considerably more clear-headed. Instead of hovering like some giant misguided moth, he went down to the kitchen and fixed a cup of ginger tea; proffering it to the younger man as he came stumbling out of the bathroom. Anakin took the cup without comment but paled when he recognized the taste, slowly lowering himself onto the mattress and staring incredulously at Obi-Wan. 

“...You don't think…?”

The older man sighed and leaned against the doorframe, rubbing a weary hand over his face.

“That night at the bar” he said roughly. “We weren't exactly careful.”

Anakin was silent for a moment, mug cupped between his fingers as he collected his thoughts.

“...I remember that I was wet” he murmured.

“You were” Obi-Wan huffed. “Undeniably so...I can't _believe_ I didn't stop and think.”

“We were so wasted” the younger man muttered. “It's a miracle we were able to fuck at all.” They were silent for a moment, each processing the realization in their own way. “Obi-Wan...what do we do?”

At this, the former Jedi Master smiled crookedly and pushed off the wall, crossing the room and sinking down on the mattress next to his husband. Gently, so as not to surprise him, he placed a hand on his stomach.

“What we've always done, Ani” he murmured. “You’re pregnant, and we're going to love this child just as much as we love our other children…

...more than the Universe...more than Life itself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long but the Holidays always crunch my writing time. Thank you, thank you for your kudos and comments. I appreciate every single one. I hope you all had a lovely Christmas/Holiday. Next chapter should be up within a week.


	15. Unconscious Design

“ _Mani!”_

Anakin snorted sleepily as the soft and familiar voice reached his ears, eyes fluttering as he made a pathetic attempt to return to consciousness only to fall back into blackness once more.

“Hey! Hey _mani!”_

“Luke” he rasped, finally dragging his lids open with monumental effort. “.. What have I told you about calling me that?” 

Before him, the waters of the oasis sparkled in the early afternoon light. Shot through with brilliant sunrays, it took on an effervescent and crystalline quality...brilliant white particles at the bottom shifting slowly in invisible currents. The wind whispered through the bowing fronds of palm; bringing with it the scents of the desert; of sand, rough rock and blue sky. Somewhere far distant, a speeder was racing across the dunes, its passage a silent whisper in Force...there and gone again. Anakin was sitting just at the edge of the oasis, the water gently lapping at his toes and lulling him into a sleepy state. The mat under him could be fashioned into a ground-level recliner, and he was using at such; a sunshade stretched over his head at Obi-Wan’s insistence. 

Luke stood before him in nothing but his swimsuit, arms folded crossly as he glared at him over the smattering of freckles on his nose. At seven years old, he was pushing four and a half feet; quite tall for someone his age, but Anakin feared this meant he might stop growing sooner. Leia was a foot behind, but made up for it with her fiery temper. Currently, she was kneeling in the shallows with Rayven, her sister. They were swapping clam shells and bickering happily. Sensing his gaze, the younger girl looked up and smiled; aquamarine eyes catching the light as she tucked a lock of fiery red hair behind her ears. Hers had been an easy pregnancy, all things considering. Anakin wasn't sick half as much as he'd been with the twins, and her delivery was straightforward and swift. Unlike her siblings, she had no Force Sensitivity whatsoever, something that didn't bother her in the least. By the time the twins were two, Anakin was receiving several calls a month from the Temple, asking if he'd given more consideration to letting their children be Jedi. Each time, he assured them he would think on it, and get back to them.

When the twins reached five, the calls stopped. 

It wasn't that he had anything against the Order, really. ...Okay maybe he did, _a little_ , but did they really expect him to give up his children and pretend that he was okay with it? Obi-Wan tutored Luke in the ways of the Force constantly, ever since he'd taken an interest in it...extending his services to Leia, but she simply didn't care for it. Already, she and Padme had a rather steady correspondence, and he wouldn't be surprised if she went on to go into politics. She'd inherited Obi-Wan’s negotiating skills tenfold, and it was damn hard to win against her in an argument. Luke was quieter and much more subdued, but far more emotionally mature...preferring to keep his interests and opinions under a tight lid unless the moment was absolutely right. Rayven was very much a mixture of both her parents, with Obi-Wan’s keen sense of insight and Anakin’s sharp tongue and ambition. Obi-Wan often commented that if she were Force Sensitive, he'd be more concerned about her than anyone else. She was both clever and beautiful, something Anakin was sure would be a concern when she was older. 

“We all call you that” Luke muttered, kicking his bare feet so the sand sprayed up slightly. “You’re our mom.”

“I'm Dad” Anakin groused, rubbing sand out from under his knees. 

His son’s expression took on a mischievous shadow. 

“Okay _Dad_ , you're fat and lazy and I'm super bored.”

“Luke! That's no way to talk to your mother!”

Obi-Wan’s choice of address made Anakin cringe. The older man was making a leisurely path down to the edge of the water, a large sunhat covering most of his face. 

“Yeah, well he’s doing the _’I'm not Mom, I'm Dad’_ thing again.”

Familiar grey eyes swept over him in tender amusement. Gently nudging him to the side, Obi-Wan sat down next to Anakin and put a hand over his swollen stomach, eyes crinkling at the edges as a swift kick came in response. 

“It’s the hormones, Luke” he said gravely, though Anakin could still feel laughter bubbling across from their Training Bond. “Poor Anakin just isn't used to dealing with them anymore.”

“I'm thirty years old and carrying twins” the younger man complained. “How the hell am I supposed to feel?”

“You’re super old _Mani_ ” Luke agreed, looking as if he very well expected Anakin to drop dead on the spot. “ _And_ you're fat.”

“I'm _pregnant!!_ ” Anakin exploded. “And all because your _Dad_ couldn't keep it in his pants on our anniversary...let alone remember a condom.”

Luke looked confused.

“...But you went camping on your anniversary. To Naboo.”

“Yes, we did” Obi-Wan said mildly, rolling up the cuffs to his pants and putting his feet in the water.”

“What did you have in your pants?”

“What's a conndumb?” came Rayven’s curious chirp, coming up from the shallows with her arms full of shells. 

“Pants make babies?” Leia asked, watching as Luke stared at his swimming trunks in abject horror. 

“For fuck’s sake” Anakin grumbled, dropping his head into his hands.

“Language, Anakin” Obi-Wan said sharply. “Leia darling, pants don't make babies. People make babies.”

“Why do we need two of them?” Rayven complained, setting her shells down and kneeling to look mutinously at Anakin’s middle. 

“Oh, y’know, I just _asked_ for double the watermelon” Anakin drawled, raising a sarcastic brow.

“Why didn't you ask for three?” Luke demanded. “Three’s better.”

“Um no. Three is not better.”

“Well then maybe I can make a third baby” Leia said contemplatively. 

**””No””** both parents replied simultaneously. 

Anakin shifted uncomfortably, one hand braced against the mat to steady himself while the other bunched reflexively in the loose fabric of his undertunic. Sometimes, Jedi clothes were simply more practical. Two weeks away from the nine month mark, he was past the point of caring about what he wore..so long as it was soft and loose. This had not been an easy pregnancy...he'd been plagued with terrible morning sickness and about a week ago the doctor diagnosed him with preeclampsia. They were cautioned that a cesarean might be needed if his blood pressure became unmanageable, which spelled the end of any possibility of future pregnancies. Male Carriers who couldn't deliver naturally often required hysterectomies due to the damage done to vital organs during birth. Obi-Wan was beside himself with worry, but Anakin wasn't all that concerned. He was done. Even if he successfully managed another perfect, medication-free birth, he was getting sterilized. Five kids was enough. 

“You look tired.” 

Anakin blinked exhaustedly, watching as their three children wandered off to play in the water. Obi-Wan pressed a hand to his belly before capturing his lips, letting a finger trail down his jaw.

“You’re beautiful you know” he murmured. 

The younger man scoffed.

“I'm huge, Obi-Wan.”

“Only here” the older man murmured, splaying his fingers. “You still take care of yourself.”

“Not so well apparently” Anakin muttered. 

“You’re older Anakin...far older than you were when you carried Luke and Leia. Twins are a huge strain on the body.” When he continued to look morose, he sighed. “I'm sorry I didn't use a condom.”

Anakin smiled crookedly and placed a hand over Obi-Wan’s. 

“Hell...I'm just as much to blame. You looked so damn sexy after that hike...I just had to jump you.”

“You insist that I'm ‘sexy’ when I'm pushing fifty” his former Master huffed. “I often wonder if your corneas are reversed.” 

One of the twins kicked and Anakin chuckled.

“What's that saying about aging and milk?”

“It's wine” Obi-Wan said dourly. “I hope I'm not aging like milk.” 

“You age like fine wi-”

“-Oh _do_ shut up Anakin. You’re far too old for pickup lines.”

“I wasn't aware it was a pickup line…”

Obi-Wan sighed and pushed back his sunhat.

“...It is if you're after a cougar.”

“...And you're a cougar?”

_”Ana-kin…”_

“You'd make a lovely housecat, but you're no cougar.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“...Thank you?”

“Well you've got the naps and the aloofness down to a science.”

“ _You’re_ the one Leia caught napping in the attic.”

“I was meditating.”

“Hmm...meditation has certainly evolved if it involves cacophonous snoring.”

“Dad, I'm hungry.”

Anakin smiled as Rayven wandered up to flop beside him, resting her fiery head on his shoulder.

“See?” he said smugly, smirking at Obi-Wan. “Ray calls me Dad.” 

“Wasn't talking to you” their daughter grumbled. “You don't cook.”

Obi-Wan chuckled and got up, proffering his hand to Anakin, who took it resignedly. They dismantled the sunshade and gathered the other two children, luring them back into the house with promises of cookies and fruit drinks. 

“Go lay down” Obi-Wan murmured, waving Anakin away as he began to set out snacks. “I'll be in in a few to rub your feet.”

“You’re an angel” Anakin sighed, pecking him on the cheek as he made his way to the stairs. The older man flushed and laughed softly.

“One of us had to be.”

_________________________________________________________

“Feels good.”

Obi-Wan paused and smiled, reaching for the jar of oil and applying it to his fingers before returning to his husband's feet. Anakin watched sleepily, propped up in a nest of pillows at the head of the bed. Evening was falling and he had a casserole in the oven, but he had a feeling the younger man would be asleep before it was ready. He wasn't blind to how hard this pregnancy had been for him...the stress showed in the lines around his mouth and eyes...in the way his fingers trembled slightly at the end of the day out of pure exhaustion. They'd discussed the possible complications early on, both acknowledging that the risks were high and the possibility of miscarriage was almost unavoidable. Male Carriers were in their reproductive prime from their late teens to late twenties...suffering no aesthetic decline as they aged but a much greater risk of unexpected complications past twenty-eight. Anakin was pretty much a biological phenomena, and his doctor watched his progress closely. 

When it came to friends and acquaintances, the five of them went into town to take the children on playdates. Their education was managed at home...Anakin having resigned from his job three years previous so they could receive proper instruction. For someone who'd been so awkward around the Younglings, he was an incredible teacher. Obi-Wan occasionally sat in on his lessons, and they were animated, colorful, and interesting; even to someone who had learned the subject matter nearly forty years before. When Padme and Palo came to visit, their daughter was just as taken with his creative tutelage. Despite the fact that she still advised members of the Senate on Galactic affairs, the former Queen of Naboo had resigned from her post five years ago. She was an honorary stand-in for absent representatives from her home planet, but otherwise was perfectly happy raising her daughter. 

“You ever wonder where we'd be if we didn't have the twins?”Anakin murmured, his eyes half-lidded. 

Obi-Wan let out a breath and slowly shook his head.

“I...don't know Anakin. Regardless of the twins, you still would've been under Palpatine’s influence. I honestly don't like to think about how you would have reacted without the twins to consider when confronted with a Sith...especially one you knew and trusted.”

“I would have Fallen” Anakin replied, and the surety in his eyes made Obi-Wan shiver. “I loved you but I was always afraid of losing you. Palpatine offered me a way of keeping those I love alive forever...I'd have crumpled like tinfoil.”

Stopping, Obi-Wan made his way around the circumference of the mattress to sit next to the youngest man, taking his hand. 

“There's something you should know about the circumstances of your birth” he said quietly. “Something I should have told you a long time ago.”

Anakin chewed his lip apprehensively, his eyes sliding away as he appeared to consider what he was about to say.

“If it's about the whole theory that Plagueis created me...I've heard it.”

Obi-Wan was surprised.

“When did you hear that??”

The younger man grimaced.

“It circulated around the Temple after Palpatine died...what little time we were there anyhow. One of the Masters must have mentioned it to a Padawan who leaked the theory to his friends. Anyway, even if it's true...I'm doing a pretty shitty job of being a Sith.” He looked curiously at his former Master. “How did you hear about it?”

“Yoda pulled me to the side soon after I retrieved your psyche to talk about it. His opinion was that while Plagueis may have tried to influence the midichlorians...he was unsuccessful, and sensing his ill-intent, the Force created _you_ to rid the Galaxy of the Sith.” 

“I never heard that theory” Anakin murmured. 

“The Force would never be subjected to manipulation by the Dark Side” Obi-Wan replied. “Siths bank on the idea that there is a negative mirror to the Light Side of the Force...and we teach our Younglings to view it as such, but I'm more inclined to think it's entirely symbiotic. There is only the Force...and it is not multifaceted, it simply is. What the Sith do is a distortion of their gifts...a corruption of power, but it's of their own making. I don't think there was or is or ever will be a truly sickened branch of midichlorian compound. Wherever the Sith get their power  
...it's not given to them by the Force, not for the purpose they use it for in any case.”

Anakin was thoughtful for a moment. 

“I guess that kind of makes sense” he said slowly. “Though you've always paid more attention to that stuff than me.”

“In any case, whether you were conceived through good or ill intention, it carries no bearing for who you are now.”

His former padawan smiled, a little sadly.

“Yeah...I know.” 

Obi-Wan patted his arm and stood so he could return the massage oil to its shelf. The flurry of footsteps on the stairs gave him pause, and he watched in amusement as Leia bounced into the room and over to the bed; crawling up the coverlet and placing her head on Anakin’s shoulder. 

“And what have you been up to?” the former Jedi Master queried, turning from the shelf and folding his arms.

“Luke and Rayven are playing Jedi” she grumbled. “I don't want to.”

“Hmm” Anakin crooned, stroking her braids. “Y’know, there's more to being a Jedi than just fighting. Obi-Wan dealt in politics a lot.”

“I know…” Leia mumbled. “...But Luke's going to go away and be a Jedi someday and I don't want to think about that sooner than I have to.”

The two parents glanced at each other. In truth, Luke was too old to join the Order now...even with his prowess in the ways of the Force. Anakin had been a special case...what with his godlike midichlorian count and an incredible prophecy to back him up. Word from Padme was that while the Jedi were more involved in Galactic mechanisms...nothing about their dogma had really changed. Anakin wasn't comfortable sending any of his children into an organization that refused to acknowledge its flaws, and Obi-Wan hated the idea of his little ones facing so much danger and solitude. If Luke was to be anything close to a Jedi Knight, it would be through his fathers and not through the Temple. 

“Let me show you something” Anakin remarked, struggling out of his pillows and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He made an attempt to get up before looking sheepishly at Obi-Wan, who gently helped him off and away from the mattress. The younger man wandered over to a bureau they had shoved in the corner and opened up the uppermost drawer; fumbling through its contents till he drew out the long thin box that held his padawan braid. Leia-who had followed him over out of curiosity-peered around his belly as he opened it. “I've showed this to Luke, but not to you. When your Dad was my Master, it was the longest hair I had...the rest was cut short. Each bead signifies a different achievement, or a trial I had to conquer in order to obtain it.” He watched as Leia held the braid somewhat apprehensively. “Being a Jedi isn't easy. It's about suffering silently, but at the same time acknowledging that your pain is something you can control. Jedi live singular lives, but their award is enlightenment in the face of evil...they live and die to serve the Force.”

“Why does Luke want to be part of something so lonely?” Leia whispered. 

“Loneliness comes only to those who acknowledge its existence” Obi-Wan replied, stepping forward and cradling the braid reverently. “Jedi are happiest when there is peace...when there is harmony in the Galaxy. When you have the Force to guide you, you don't need anything else.” 

“But you and Mom didn't stay that way” Leia protested. 

“We didn't” Obi-Wan agreed. “Anakin is a singular individual...I fell in love with him so hard and so fast I was scrambling to pick up the pieces when I finally realized what we were doing.” Placing the braid back into its box, he put a steadying hand to the small of Anakin’s back as he put it away. “Maybe someday Luke will find someone like that...but for now, he's happy with his path. You want him to be happy don't you, dear one?”

Leia chewed her lip in a very Anakin-like way before looking at the ground.

“Yes...I do.”

“Then be happy he's found a dream” Anakin said firmly, tilting her chin back up so he could look into her eyes. “Just like your dream is to change how the Galaxy works...your siblings have dreams as well.”

She smiled a little uncertainly, stepping forward to hug both of them before scampering away. 

“She's grown so much” Obi-Wan murmured, listening to the sounds of their children playing. 

“They all have” Anakin replied, his voice ragged with exhaustion.

“Go back to bed” Obi-Wan said sternly, turning so he could kiss him firmly. “I'm sorry love, I forgot you were tired.”

“I'm fine” the younger man insisted. “Leia had some important questions...I wasn't just gonna shunt her off to the side.”

“Well for now, go lay down. I'll call you when dinner is ready.”

The younger man smiled wearily, already sinking back into his mountain of pillows.

“Forgive me if I'm not there” he whispered. 

Drawing the covers up...Obi-Wan tsked quietly.

“Anakin, I'm not going to fuss if you miss dinner. You’re exhausted, due to give birth in a few weeks, and your blood pressure is fluctuating. I'd be the most awful sod on earth if I got upset that you didn't eat my awful casserole.” 

His former padawan chuckled then winced as the vibrations woke one or both of the twins.

“...Kinda amazing how it's all turned out” he mused, his eyes fluttering shut.

“That's the thing about the Force” Obi-Wan replied, stroking his hair. “...You never know how your life might turn out...or where your path might lead you...but the Force knows. Every choice we make is under the scrutiny of a far greater power, like the eyes of the stars in a cosmic nursery. We carve our destiny...but our Fates are sealed long before we've been born. So really, it's all a matter of coincidence and genius...like the ticking of a pre-wound clock in the depths of space...like the programmed autopilot on a hyperdrive in the throes of warp...everything and anyone in a thousand threads across millions of timelines...

...it’s unconscious design.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manil is not a confirmed Hutteese word for Mom but taken out of sentence concept and laden with creative liberty. 
> 
> Okay...so I did that thing where I derpily stated the next chapter would be up in a week and then a few days later I couldn't sleep and rolled it out around 1AM. 
> 
> Hell...this has been a ride. A beautiful, wonderful rife and you guys have been the most amazing passengers on my crazytrain. Again, Qinderella: my inspiration. This would absolutely not have happened without her. Stale By Noon is a masterpiece. 
> 
> Just to give you some picture of the future...I already broke my "no fanfiction" promise and I'm halfway through a terrible debauched oneshot. I keep saying this: _I don't know what's wrong with me._ I'm also working on a darkside concept. Fanart and all. So. My resolution to go fic-free gave me the middle finger and knocked me on my ass. I will not be back until athe least the fourth of January. 
> 
> Seriously though, you all are so wonderful. Your support has been incredible, and I am **so sorry** I haven't got the chance to reply to all of your reviews. It's either horrendously late when I post or I'm in a rush and I have to post and run. Nevertheless, I read and love every single on. Thank you, thank you, thank you.


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